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1 



A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


By MAURICE FRANCIS EGAN. 

II 



BALTIMORE: 

JOHN MURPHY & CO. 
1893. 






Copyright 1893, by Johk Murphy & Co. 



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THE WINTER ROSES. 


The sky is like the water, 

Gray as the hue of lead, 

The fisher’s little daughter 

Weareth black upon her head; 

The boughs that wave above her 
Are gray with winter frost, 

And all the hearts that love her 

The bridge of death have crossed. 

I hear no children’s voices, — 

Silent the fisher’s maid, — 

No gladsome soul rejoices 

Where bold boys used to wade 
In summer, in the sunlight. 

When days were sweet with song. 

And the wide beach was smooth and white. 
Not strewn with wrecks along. 

Ah, see the winter roses. 

Hedged round with greenest moss, 
Each curled leaf encloses 
A fragrant balm for loss ; 

And, though there is no breaking 
Of the grayness overhead. 

They teach of an awakening 
Of life that is not dead. 


2 


WINTER ROSES. 


See how they glow and quiver, 

See how they nod and bend, 
While all the world’s a-shiver. 
They sparks of ruby send ; 

Like firelight in the garden, 

Heart-shaped and red as flame, 
They speak of love’s sweet pardon. 
From out their mossy frame. 

Ah, gray and winter weather, 

I wish your days were done. 
My heart and hopes together 
Could open to the sun ; 

O roses, winter roses, 

I feel your lesson deep. 

No gray day ever closes 

But leaves us joy to keep. 


CONTENTS. 


Chapter. Page. 

I. — Money, 5 

II. — Our Lady of the Rosary, - - 16 

III. — A Blessing, 26 

IV. — A Social Question, . - . . 37 

V. — “That Girl,” 46 

VI. — Artlessness and Heartlessness, - 56 

VII. — A NEW Social Standard, - - - 66 

VIII. — Biddy Singen, 76 

IX. — The Triumph of Katharine, - - 85 

X. — Mrs. Sherwood’s First Battle, - 96 

XI. — Danger, .110 

XII. — A Proposal, 122 

XIII. — Katharine Pleases her Aunt, - - 137 

XIV. — A Warning, 161 

XV. — Frankness, 161 

XVI.— A Mystery, 173 

XVII. — “But never doubt my love,” - - 186 

XVIII. — The Screens at Bolingbroke, - - 196 

XIX.— Ferdinand Carey, 209 

XX.— Who ? 218 

XXL— “Dof?A Quixota,” 232 

XXII. — Jane Mavrick, 244 

XXIII.— At Mrs. Cayre’s, 256 


3 


4 


CONTENTS. 


V 




CHAPTER. P^iGE. 

XXIV. — A Question of Spelling, . - - 266 

XXV. — A Wrecked Life, 275 

XXVI.— “The Winter Eoses,” ... 286 

XXVII. — “The Sky is like the Water,” - - 295 

XXVIII. — Ferdinand Carey’s Wife, - - - 306 

XXIX. — Katharine’s Confidant, - - - 319 

XXX. — The Glove, 331 



A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


CHAPTER I. 

Money. 

I T could not be said that the Sherwoods under- 
rated the value of money. Marcus Sherwood 
had spent the best part of his life in amassing it, 
and his wife had used the best part of hers in making 
it a factor in their social progress. But a time had 
come when they felt that something more than 
money was needed to make them happy. They had 
no children, and they had no religion. 

It is true that Mrs. Sherwood had engaged very 
much in church work.^^ In the most desirable set 
in her section of Kenwood — a suburb of Philadelphia 
— the Protestant Episcopalians were in the ascendant. 
They were Broad Church,’^ and as Mrs. Sherwood 
had no particular religious dogmas, their opinions, 
when she could grasp them, suited her very well. 

Marcus Sherwood, her husband, had gone in and 
out of the city every working day, except in August, 
2 5 


6 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


for the last twenty years. The train had generally 
been on time, and no accident had happened. Some- 
times Mr. Sherwood had asked himself what would 
become of him in the other world if an accident 
should happen. And then he had said to himself 
that he would give more serious attention to religion. 
But later he had forgotten all about it in the excite- 
ment on Third Street ; and if he remembered it at 
all, it was only when the buckwheat cakes in the 
morning gave him indigestion, or he ate too much 
in the evening. It must be admitted that Mr. 
Sherwood^s serious religious moments were almost 
invariably connected with some slight flaw in a usu- 
ally ^rfect state of health. Once, and once only, 
had he been frightened, or rather seriously awed, by 
the majesty of an unseen power. Sometimes he 
remembered it, but he generally succeeded in putting 
it out of his mind with all the force of his will. 
When his boy — since dead — had been at school, 
another boy had fallen into the river near the school- 
house and been almost drowned. Mr. Sherwood had 
seen a priest jump into the flood, — it was a stormy 
day, — and with what seemed like a little black bag 
in his mouth, reach the fainting boy’s side. The 
priest had done this at the imminent risk of his life. 
Mr. Sherwood looked at the inky waves of the wide 
river and shudderingly clasped his own boy’s hand. 

That priest has escaped from the jaws of death,” 
he said. would not take a hundred thousand 
dollars and swim the river as it is to-day, with the 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


7 


tide in from the bay. The boy had been rescued. 
Why did he do it ? 

He wanted to take to him the Viaticum,” said 
a bystander reverently. 

mere religious rite,” said Mr. Sherwood, 
almost with contempt. And he risked his life to 
do that.” 

The bystander, who was an Irishman engaged at 
work on the river embankment, reverently took olF 
his hat. 

^^It is the Body and Blood of our Lord Jesus 
Christ.” 

Mr. Sherwood started in amazement. He had 
seen a man risk his life, and he had heard these 
words uttered from the practical life around him. 
He looked at the ruddy young Irishman, full of life 
and health, full of desire no doubt for earthly happi- 
ness, working no doubt to amass money like most 
people, ignorant perhaps, and yet wise in a way be- 
yond all ordinary knowledge. He was common- 
place, soiled with the earth, — and yet at that mo- 
ment far above the earth. Mr. Sherwood could see 
the kneeling figure of the priest beside the boy. He 
felt a strange yearning to penetrate this mystery ; he 
felt as if he were on the outside of some great and 
beautiful palace, into which he had a right to enter. 
For a moment a strong impulse moved him to knock 
at the gate. He resisted it then, and ever afterwards 
when the same impulse arose in him he resisted it 
still. He was afraid to inquire further about this 


8 


A MAEEIAGE OF EEASON. 


mystery, — there was something so terribly fas- 
cinating about it, something so true, that he held 
back from it. His boy died. This had been the 
one great sorrow of his life, but time had made 
it less. 

Mrs. Sherwood had more time to think than her 
husband. Sometimes she wondered whether there 
was really any authority in the world that could tell 
her which religion was best. She was attracted for 
a time by the ceremonies at St. Clement’s, in the 
city. She had made the acquaintance of one of the 
ministers of that church, and had found him to be 
a very charming gentleman ; but he seemed to think 
that Heaven was in some way an annex to England, 
and this had not quite satisfied her. His picture of 
the life to come was to her mind an afternoon tea 
among the angels, under stained-glass windows. 
Mrs. Sherwood, who was intensely American, had 
not found this congenial, though she often said she 
thought she would enjoy the confessional, if one 
might tell all one’s grievances.” 

But most of Mrs. Sherwood’s time was spent in 
keeping her place in society. Unhappily she had 
been of no particular family. Her people had come 
from the West and made a little money in trade 
down town in Philadelphia. This was very much 
against her in Kenwood, where the traditions of 
Philadelphia ruled. In fact, Kenwood was mostly 
peopled by folk who could not afford to live in the 
proper streets in the parent city, and who constantly 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


9 


lived out of town rather than run the risk of not 
being visited. 

The Sherwoods could have lived in Spruce or 
Walnut or Locust Street if they wanted to, but Mrs. 
Sherwood felt that she would perhaps be compelled 
to acknowledge the inferiority of her ancestors at 
times, and that would not do at all. She had always 
lived at Kenwood ; she was saturated with ideas 
of old Philadelphia ; she had seen nothing of the 
outer world ; and she would have given five years 
of her life if she could only have claimed a Biddle 
or a Rittenhouse as a great-grand-uncle. But, alas ! 
such an ancestor was unattainable. This being the 
sad case, Mrs. Sherwood Avas obliged to rely entirely 
on the money wffich her husband had made in his 
conservative brokerage business in Third Street. 
But she had wild dreams of scaling the social wall 
which divided her from that sanctum in which 
the idols of old Philadelphia sat, hidden, to her 
imagination, by clouds of incense, and silent as 
Buddha. 

Mrs. SherAvood bitterly regretted that her hus- 
band was not a great millionaire. If he had been, 
she well knew that their entrance into the sacred 
precincts would have been easy. As it was, money, 
after all, was not the ultimate object in life worth 
working for, she felt. She lived in a beautiful 
house, with a lawn that seemed as soft as velvet in 
the summer, and an interior as luxurious as possible 
in the winter. The ^^best people’^ in Kenwood 


10 


A MAEEIAGE OF EEASON. 


came to her dinners, her lawn parties, and her 
musicales. But there were social heights which she 
could not scale; consequently, she was unhappy. 
Outwardly she seemed serene, even genial at times. 
Nevertheless she was a disappointed woman, although 
she possesssed an abundance of money and of the 
luxuries that money could buy. She was not a 
vulgar woman, and yet she had all her life gauged 
things by their money value. Earlier, she had 
dreamed of her present position, and thought that 
when she should attain it she would be happy. 
She had attained it, yet she was unhappy. Her 
round of social dissipations did not please her now. 
She wanted to be greater than she was. Her hus- 
band did not understand why his*wife should long 
so much to enter strange drawing-rooms and see 
strange people. He never had any social perspec- 
tive, she often said. In his heart he often said that 
if his wife had a religion or children, she would be 
much happier. He and she were about fifty years 
of age ; and he looked forward to a time when he 
should rest. In his heart, too, he wondered how 
his restless and unsatisfied wife could endure an old 
age by the fireside. 

Sometimes now he began to think that life was 
a failure, — that the world, in fact, had cheated him. 
Had he not heard from his infancy that money 
would do everything? And yet money had not 
done much for him. In spite of an urbane and 
acquired manner which sat well on them both, there 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


11 


were no more unhappy people in Kenwood than 
Mr. and Mrs. Sherwood. 

One autumn morning Mrs. Sherwood had con- 
cluded to go up to the city with her husband. 
Shopping was her object ostensibly : to get rid of a 
fit of the blues her real object. A well-arranged 
equipage bore them to the station, — an equipage very 
bright, very graceful in form, which included two 
men on the box, but no coat of arms on the panel. 
It made Mrs. Sherwood sad to notice this omission. 
But her husband — though she often assured him 
that he must be of the Sherwoods of Sherwood Forest 
of Kobin Hood memory — was always obdurate about 
the coat of arms. 

“ Good gracious,’’ she said, as they started, that 
O’Conor girl must be growing. She must be twenty 
years of age. I thought of her this morning while 
I was dressing ; I came across her photograph as a 
baby in one of my boxes. It is time something was 
done with her.” 

That’s true, Anne,” her husband said, raising 
his eyes from the financial columns of The Ledger ; 
we have neglected her.” 

‘ Neglected ’ is a hard word, Marcus. We’ve 
kept her at school for over ten years, and I suppose 
you’ll make some provision for her future.” 

But we have not made a home for her, and she 
is my own sister’s child, Anne,” said her husband, 
gravely. Perhaps you and I would be happier if 
we had some young creature in the house.” 


12 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


It would depend on the young creature. I have 
known young creatures to be just as troublesome as 
old creatures.’’ 

Really, Anne, we must have her home : if she 
has been at school ten years, it is time she had a 
home.” 

What a nuisance ! I am sorry I spoke of her 
at all!” 

shall be glad to see her,” said her husband, 
with a show of interest meant as a rebuke to his 
wife. She is Katie’s only child.” 

But she will certainly be a drag on us socially. 
She has such a plebeian name — O’Conor ! And if 
I remember her rightly, she had red hair when I 
saw her last. I don’t see why Katie couldn’t 
have married somebody besides that delicate young 
O’Conor, — she might have married somebody who 
would have helped us on, instead of a man who died 
as soon as he could. And of course she followed 
him, poor girl I But, by the way, Marcus,” said his 
wife suddenly, as if a new and horrible thought had 
struck her, Katharine O’Conor is a Catholic ! ” 

Well?” said her husband. 

But don’t you see she will be out of touch with 
all our set, and there will be fasting and praying 
and all that sort of thing going on in the house 
continually. There’s some distinction about being 
High (Jhurch, but the Catholics are so hopeless 
socially. One never meets them in society.” 

Mr. Sherwood grinned. 


A MAEEIAGE OF EEASON. 


13 


Not in Kenwood ; but I have met a great many.^^ 
In a business way, of course ; but you know that 
in this part of the world they have really no social 
standing. A few clever ones or rich ones do manage 
to get the recognition — ” 

Which we are not rich enough or clever enough 
to deserve.^^ 

Mrs. Sherwood flushed under her veil. 

You know what I mean, Marcus.’^ 

I am not sure ; but, my dear, we must ask 
Katharine O^Conor to come home; it would seem 
like treachery to the memory of my only sister if I 
did not insist upon this.’^ 

Mrs. Sherwood sighed. She raised her plump 
hand, admirably gloved, and shaded her eyes with 
it. This was her habit when she was annoyed. Mrs. 
Sherwood, in the morning light, looked her age : her 
black eyes were as bright as they ever had been, but 
her hair, raised in the Pompadour fashion over her 
brow, was sprinkled with gray ; her complexion 
somewhat reddened, and two upright wrinkles above 
her nose, told that her serenity of manner — much 
admired in social assemblies — was not altogether 
habitual. She caught sight of her face in the nar- 
row glass between the windows of the carriage ; and 
she sighed again. After all, money would not buy 
the best things in life. In fact, all the best things 
in life were above it. 

Anne, do not let us forget that what claims we 
have on the world have been earned by ourselves,^’ 


14 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


said Mr. Sherwood. see no higher patent of 
nobility than that we began with nothing. We 
made money, and the money has made us,’^ he 
added, with a laugh. 

‘‘ Oh, money, — always money ! said his wife, 
contemptuously. 

But what should we do without it ? ’’ asked 
Marcus Sherwood, turning his good-natured, round 
face towards his wife with a grave look. What 
have we to live for except the enjoyment of money ? 
If I were poor I would commit suicide. And half 
my friends would do the same thing.’’ 

Mrs. Sherwood shuddered. 

Life would be terrible without money ; but I 
do hope this O’Conor child will not be entirely 
unpresentable.” And Mrs. Sherwood conjured up 
the picture of a short, stout girl, with freckles, a 
snub nose, and bad teeth, who giggled, and had no 
manner or manners. 

^^They say the Sisters give their pupils decent 
manners, at any rate. And of course, as she was 
over at Notre Dame de Sion for two years out of 
the ten, she must speak French with a good accent. 
The Sisters at Sion have, I hear, a great reputation 
for that sort of thing.” 

^^At any rate, Anne,” Mr. Sherwood said, with un- 
usual firmness, we must be kind to Katie’s child.” 

Haven’t you paid her bills for ten years — ” 

‘^But that wasn’t kindness,” interrupted Mr. 
Sherwood ; that was only justice. I am anxious 


A MAKRIAGE OF REASON. 


15 


that everything should be done for Katie’s daughter 
that can be done. My sister saw fit to become a 
Catholic before she met O’Conor, and then married 
him, and he wasn’t a bad fellow. I’m sure he would 
have made money if he had been given time. 

She’ll spoil my dinner-parties, I’m sure,” said 
Mrs. Sherwood, resignedly. I don’t see why we 
can’t have relatives who would help us on socially ; 
but they are all just a drag on us. I can’t imagine 
a worse combination for social purposes — an ugly 
girl with such a pronouncedly Irish name, and a 
Catholic. Well, I’ll write and ask her, since you 
insist on it.” 


CHAPTER II. 


Our Lady of the Rosary. 



ATHARINE O’CONOR^S school life had 


technically ended several months before Mr. 


and Mrs. Sherwood had held their conversation 
about her. But she was still to all intents and 
purposes a convent girl. She had been graduated, 
the precious medal was hers, and yet she still 
remained at the convent. The Commencement times 
had always been the most difficult for her. Every- 
body had warm friends, everybody had a home to 
go to. Mr. and Mrs. Sherwood were kind and 
polite when they came at very rare intervals; but 
Katharine was always heartily glad when the Com- 
mencement time was over. It was heart-breaking 
for her to see the other girls clasped in motherly 
arms, and hanging on to delighted fathers, with the 
crowns of honor as badges of victory and love. Of 
what use were class honors to her? Of course it 
pleased Mother Ursula and Sister Anselm to see her 
so industrious and patient, and this contented her 
after the Commencement time had passed. But the 
old desire for a mother awoke every year, and she 
only found relief at the foot of the statue of the 


16 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


17 


Mother of God, which stood in the little room per- 
mitted to each graduate. Now she was a post- 
graduate. She still wore the plain and simple 
uniform of the convent — black frock for all ordinary 
occasions, and a red or white one for gala days. 
The black gown did not suit her, and most strangers 
thought she was a very plain and commonplace girl. 
She was slight, and rather above the middle height ; 
her face was ordinarily somewhat pale — a clear, 
healthy pallor, if one may use the word, with no 
hint of ill health in it. When she was interested or 
pleased, her face actually glowed ; and her blue eyes, 
wliich were large and expressive, seemed luminous. 
She had the hair and eyebrows and eyelashes that go 
with eyes of the soft yet bright blue we know as 
Irish. Her voice, not naturally low, had been care- 
fully trained musically, for she could sing well. 
The Sisters had done their best to make a gentle- 
woman from a very sweet, somewhat high-tempered, 
and utterly untrained little girl. 

She was not ungrateful ; but it was natural that 
she should occasionally sigh for the world beyond 
the lodge gates of the convent. She had not read 
many novels : she had given her word to Mother 
Ursula that she would read only such novels as 
Mother Ursula approved of ; and the novels that 
passed the censorship of the Superior were few in 
number. Nevertheless they were of high literary 
merit, for Mother Ursula was not one of those who 
believed that morality should necessarily be taught 


18 


A MAEEIAGE OF EEASON. 


in bad English. Katharine had kept her word, for 
she was scrupulously honorable. Some of her com- 
panions often insisted that if a thing were not an 
actual sin, there was no harm in it ; but Katharine 
never admitted such an opinion. She was both 
honest and honorable. 

Katharine had not — let me whisper it in these 
days of higher education — read Cicero or the Odes 
of Horace ; she knew little about theoretical or applied 
science ; she could not dissect a locomotive to save 
her life ; and, although she knew the chemical con- 
stituents of water, she had never troubled her mind 
with much deeper knowledge of that kind. She liked 
to read, and to read with a purpose ; she knew how 
to apply herself to mental work, but the Sisters had 
cultivated in her the power of concentration rather 
than of dissipation. In Katharine’s case they had 
not been trammelled by any interference on the part 
of ignorant or half-educated parents. 

When Mrs. Sherwood’s letter came Katharine was 
engaged in the pleasant task of providing for one of 
those little festivals that diversify the quiet of con- 
vent school life. There was to be a feast in honor 
of Mother Ursula’s recovery from a short illness. 
Katharine was putting all her heart into the con- 
struction of a garland of red roses intended to be 
worn by one of the characters in a Roman banquet 
scene. She was as full of delighted anticipation as 
if she were one of the small girls just entering school. 
But this fled as she read Mrs. Sherwood’s letter. 


A MAEKIAGE OF EEASON. 


19 


She dropped the red petals on the floor, regardless 
of her well-established principles of order, and ran 
to Mother Ursula^s room. 

Mother Ursula was short, and a trifle stout, but 
she moved with exquisite grace, and there was a per- 
petual brightness in her face which was a stimulus 
to all around her, even on the rainiest of rainy days. 

Well, Katharine,’^ she said, looking up from a 
pile of letters on the table before her, ^^well, mv 
dear?’^ 

I am to go home. Mother — that is, to Kenwood,’^ 
said Katharine, expecting to see something dreadful 
happen. Would Mother swoon? Would Mother 
cry out at this piece of news of such awful im- 
portance ? 

^^Sit down, dear,’’ said Mother Ursula calmly. 

too, have had a letter from Mrs. Sherwood — 
and you are to leave us at last ! ” 

Katharine could hardly believe the evidence of 
her senses. Did Mother Ursula actually realize that 
she was going? Her own eyes were full of tears 
and her heart was throbbing. 

O Mother,” she said, it is so terrible to go out 
into the wild world — and you do not seem to mind 
it at all ! Oh, dear ! I am alone — all alone ! I 
can’t go ! ” 

Mother Ursula looked at her with alert, bright 
eyes. 

But, Katharine,” she said, how are we to keep 
you here unless you have a vocation? One must 
choose between the two paths.” 


20 A MAKEIAGE OF EEASON. 

I know — I know, and I^m sure I wish I had a 
vocation ; I^m sure IVe prayed enough.’^ 

How can we tell when we have prayed enough ? ’’ 
asked Mother Ursula. ^ Enough ^ is a great word 
when we apply it to prayer.” 

I believe you are glad to get rid of me, Mother 
Ursula,” exclaimed Katharine, beginning to cry. 

Sit down, dear,” said the Sister, in a very sweet 
voice ; we have been your mother and father and 
brothers and sisters, and we love you, Katharine — 
you do not doubt that ? ” 

Katharine kept her face covered with her hands ; 
she did not answer, but shook her head negatively. 

Ah, you do not mean that,” continued Mother 
Ursula, rising and taking her hand. I do not 
fear that you do not understand our love for you, 
but I do fear that you may forget our lessons.” 

Oh, no ! But why can’t I stay ? It is heart- 
breaking.” 

Mother Ursula knew that Katharine was entirely 
sincere. At the same time she was too well versed 
in the hearts of young girls without vocation for the 
religious life not to know that Katharine would be 
anxious enough to go, if the sisters insisted that she 
should remain. 

If I were going home, it would be different, — 
but I am only going to strangers.” 

Still, you owe them gratitude and duties.” 

^^I suppose I do, but it is very hard,” sobbed 
Katharine. How can I bear it ? ” 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


21 


Mother Ursula simply put the crucifix of her 
rosary iuto Katharine’s hand. There was silence, 
broken only by Katharine’s sobs. Mother Ursula 
felt that it was hard — harder than Katharine under- 
stood it to be at that moment, for the girl had not 
yet begun to realize that the world is not what it 
seems to young eyes. 

^^You will write often,” Mother Ursula said. 

We will pray a great deal for you. You are our 
child, you know ; and if any great affliction should 
come to you, remember there is a refuge here.” 

Kathleen kissed Mother Ursula’s hand, and still 
sobbed. The interview ended with this. Katharine 
went out to communicate the news to her friends 
among the Sisters and pupils. How sweet and serene 
and home-like every place seemed — the old maples 
near the river, the mass of lilacs bordering the 
grounds ! How was it that she had ever longed to 
leave this spot, which had been so closely interwoven 
with her life ? And yet many a time she had declared 
that she would no longer endure the many rules of 
the convent, which, like a network, covered every 
day. What a strong, firm network it had been, and 
how gently it had supported characters which never 
would have become strong without it ! 

Mother Ursula was not solicitous about the things 
of this world. She was a good woman of business, — 
and certainly the management of convent schools 
might be well quoted as examples of what women 
can do in business, — and yet she relied very much 
3 


22 


A MAEKIAGE OF REASON. 


on prayer. The Eosary had extricated her from 
difficulties which her lawyer had declared to be 
insurmountable, and there had been a time when 
her Beads and a large debt had been all she possessed 
in the world ; and yet there w’as no more flourishing 
school than that of Our Lady of the Eosary, at 
present. St. Joseph had removed many obstacles 
for her, and she trusted much in his intercession ; 
and she entreated it earnestly for Katharine, the 
lily maid,^’ the one she loved best of all her flock. 
Little did Katharine dream that she had so large a 
part in Mother Ursula’s heart. 

Katharine soon began to find a certain luxury in 
her grief. Little Maria Eodrigues, the dusky Cuban, 
of whom Katharine had made a special pet, because 
she was an orphan like herself, came running into 
the corridor. 

O Maria ! ” cried Katharine, I am going to 
ask cong^ for you to-morrow, for it will be my last 
day.” 

You are going?” said the little Cuban, putting 
her head one side, like a bird. will go too, 
because I am your little girl — Mother Ursula said 
so. We will go to Cuba ! Oh, yes, we will cross 
the sea and come back in the summer ! ” 

^^But I must leave you awhile. I must go 
alone; but I will send you a doll, and come back 
for you.” 

The alarm in the little Cuban’s eyes, which had 
gathered at the first words, gave place to pleasure. 


A MAEKIAGE OF EEASON. 


23 


A doll ! Oh, yes — a senorita with a blue cloak 
and a hat and feathers. But I have torn my veil, 
and it is nearly time to go to the church.^^ 

Katharine understood this to mean that she was 
to mend the little Maria’s veil, which was torn, as a 
rule, four times a day. 

Sister Gonzaga told me to ask you to mend it,” 
said the little one, with a smile, but I was almost 
afraid ; you scolded me last time.” 

I shall never scold you again,” said Katharine, 
choking down a sob. 

How nice ! ” cried Maria, getting into the wooden 
seat where Katharine had bestowed herself, to take 
the sewing implements from her pocket. And you 
will send me a doll — a senorita, remember, with a 
parasol. And you will come back soon ! And you 
will see the beautiful world — I saw it when I came 
here with my aunt. You will see Broadway ! ” 

A slight gleam of consolation shot across Katha- 
rine’s gloom ; there might be some brightness in store 
for her, after all. Mr. and Mrs. Sherwood had 
seemed to her cold and distant, and very fashionable. 
She had always associated the scent of heliotrope 
with haughtiness and coldness, since Mrs. Sherwood 
was always perfumed with it. But still there would 
be doubtless much to see in the world ; and so the 
careless prattle of Maria took all the sting out of her 
woe, and left only the luxury of grief. 

Mrs. Sherwood had asked rather peremptorily that 
Katharine might go at once, as she wanted to fit her 


24 


A MAERIAGE OF REASON. 


out for a coming-out party, and, I presume,” she 
wrote, that both Katharine’s attire and her manners 
need some brushing up for the great world.” • 

Mother Ursula, who had been in a much greater 
world than Kenwood, smiled a little at this, and it 
was decided that Katharine should not even wait for 
the feast in honor of Mother Ursula’s recovery, but 
go at once. 

It was very sweet to Katharine to find that every- 
body loved her so. The next day — and this was a 
most unusual thing — congt was given ; and for that 
day Katharine was a great heroine. 

The gifts that came pouring into her room were 
various. Maria Rodrigues, who clung to her skirts 
wherever she went, brought a box of guava jelly, 
with one or two spoonfuls out — ^^just to taste it, 
you know,” Maria explained. Esmerald Philomena 
McBride, the proudest girl in the school, who was 
always telling everybody how long her mother’s 
sealskin sacque was, gave her a small woolen straw- 
berry full of needles. This was much admired, as 
Esmerald’s taste was popularly supposed to be ex- 
quisite, and Esmerald was always talking about it. 
Mother Ursula presented a plain little Rosary that 
could be carried anywhere, and Sister Gonzaga a lace 
picture of St. Katharine of Sienna. After this there 
was numbered all manner of gifts, from a bottle of 
olives, a hair bracelet, and a drawing of the convent, 
to two links of Bologna sausage presented by Cuna- 
gunda Schwartzmeyer, a very small girl from Mil- 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


25 


waukee, who enclosed her gift in an elaborate bonbon 
box. Katharine showed the most enthusiastic grati- 
tude to Cunagunda, and promised to eat the tidbit 
on her way home. 

The last Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament in 
the chapel was the saddest of all the last scenes for 
Katharine. Then and there it came upon her, with- 
out alleviation, that she should never be one of the 
white- veiled groups that awaited the sweet and awful 
moment when the chaplain should raise his Lord 
aloft above them ! Leaving the chapel, she felt 
alone , — so many beautiful links seemed broken all 
at once from the chain of her life. 

At last the carriage rolled up the drive, and Kath- 
arine, loaded with flowers, kissed her way to the 
door, followed by Sister Carmelita, who was to act 
as her chaperon as far as Bonaldsburg, where Mrs. 
Sherwood intended to meet her. 

Good-by ! called nearly two hundred voices. 

Duty ! whispered Mother Ursula. 

The driver snapped his whip, and the carriage 
turned away from Our Lady of the Rosary. 


CHAPTER III. 


A Blessing. 


ATHARINE passed through many phases of 



feeling on her journey towards Kenwood. 


Was the world so wicked as people said? Was it 
so delightful as it appeared ? She half-shrank from 
the threshold of it, and yet the thought of it fasci- 
nated her. 

She would not have been young if the prospect of 
a change was without attraction for her. She would 
not have been young if the heroic in life did not 
seem very near to her. She lost herself in a dream, 
in which she saw herself as the benefactress of Mr. 
and Mrs. Sherwood. They had lost their fortune ; 
they were abjectly poor ; they depended on her. 
Then Katharine saw herself rise to the occasion and 
— she did not settle in her dream by what means — 
make them independently rich. Her conduct — she 
settled in her mind that she would have many trials 
— would of course move their hearts, they would 
become Catholics, and be truly grateful to her. 

This building of castles in Spain was not encour- 
aged at Our Lady of the Rosary ; but Katharine 
was out of bounds now, and might be excused for it 


26 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


27 


because of her unusual exaltation of feeling. Mr. 
Sherwood had insisted that Katharine should travel 
with all possible comforts ; so she and her chaperon 
had the drawing-room compartment of the car, and 
a luncheon that seemed very luxurious to them both. 

It was delightful to the emancipated school-girl 
to think that she might have a long sleep every 
day in the week if she liked. No getting up at the 
sound of the imperious bell now ! But the anticipa- 
tion of this indulgence, the value of which can best 
be appreciated by the convent-school girl, faded as 
she thought of poor little Maria Rodrigues. Between 
smiles and tears the day passed. The Sister who 
accompanied her told her beads, and Katharine tried 
to pay attention to her dear friend, the rosary ; but 
her attention was so constantly distracted by some 
new thing that she reproached herself sometimes for 
her inattention. Finally she put the beads away, 
resolving to make up for it in her berth when night 
should come. 

She heartily wished that her uncle had not been 
so careful of her comfort. She heard voices in the 
narrow passage that led past the compartment, and 
she longed to see who the possessors of them were. 
It was a great thing to be in the world, and she 
wanted to see its people. 

On the next morning the Sister said good-by to 
her. She was to meet another Sister, who was going 
westward, and to go home with her. Fortunately, 
before she reached this station, her mind was relieved 


28 


A MARKIAGE OF REASON. 


of certain tremulous doubts — for the Sister had an 
old-fashioned prejudice against girls travelling alone 
— by the entrance of an old gentleman and an elderly 
lady. The old gentleman had a tired look. It was 
easy to see that he had been ill. The old lady, on 
the contrary, was bright and gay. She fussed about 
him, nearly smothered him in a way, and regulated 
the light carefully. The Sister watched the couple 
anxiously through the glass door. 

believe that is Mr. and Mrs. Percival,’’ she 
said. I wish I were sure. I could leave you with 
a clear conscience if they would look after you.’’ 

Katharine laughed. I fancy I shall have to travel 
alone many times before I die. Sister. Oh, don’t 
trouble yourself about me. Just meet Sister Teresa 
and go back, leaving me in charge of your prayers.” 

The Sister did not answer. She continued her 
scrutiny. 

“ It is the Percivals.” 

‘^Do ask them if I may sit with them. It is 
livelier out there. I really do want to see the 
people.” 

After a time the old lady rose, and came towards 
the compartment with a glass in her hand. 

As she passed their door, the Sister arose and said : 

Mrs. Percival ! ” 

The old lady paused, looking surprised. 

Why, Helen Banfort ! little Helen, I hardly 
knew you in your nun’s habit. How glad I am to 
see you ! ” 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


29 


The old lady’s brown eyes fairly danced with 
gladness. 

^^You must come out to see Edward. He has 
been ill/’ she said, lowering her voice. “ He is no 
nearer the Church than he was, Helen, when I 
married him thirty-five years ago. I hope you all 
pray hard for me at Our Lady of the Rosary.” 

Indeed we do,” said the Sister. Will you let 
me present Miss O’Conor, one of our pupils ? ” 

Mrs. Percival became a trifle colder. She looked 
at Katharine with a critical eye. Katharine rose and 
bowed. Mrs. Percival liked hei^at once, and, instead 
of merely shaking hands, kissed her on both cheeks. 

She is going to Philadelphia, and I must leave 
her at the next station. Would you be so kind — ” 
^^Of course,” said Mrs. Percival, very heartily, 
^^of course. We are going to Philadelphia, too. 
Edward and I shall be all the brighter for the pres- 
ence of a pupil from the old convent. Come, Helen, 
I hope you will let me forget your religious name 
for a few minutes. It brings back old times. Sister 
and I,” she said, turning to Katharine, were school- 
girls together. And yet how young she looks ! ” 
You cannot see my hair,” said the Sister, smiling. 
If you want to keep young,” said Mrs. Percival, 
I can give you a cosmetic, my dear, — enter a 
religious community.” 

Katharine laughed softly, and Mrs. Percival, who 
was a woman of strong prejudices, liked lier better 
than ever. 


30 


A MAERIAGE OF REASON. 


The introductions to Mr. Percival were soon over. 
It was evident from his manner that he was a man 
of prejudices, too. He looked with scarcely-concealed 
dislike at the snowy robe of the Sister, and turned 
to Katharine with visible relief on his face. Katha- 
rine, with that sensitive quickness which was part 
of her temperament, read his thoughts. She pitied 
him, and then a great dread came over her that she 
might do or say something that would sharpen his 
prejudices. She had been warned over and over 
again at the convent of the immense value of words. 
“A word is a winge^ seed,^’ Mother Ursula had often 
said : the seed of a flower or pf a poisonous weed.’’ 
Katharine touched the rosary she had twisted about 
her wrist, and felt stronger. Mother Ursula might 
have smiled — with a tear in the smile perhaps — if 
she had known how heavily Katharine felt the 
responsibility of her words. 

The conversation flagged after the Sister and 
Katharine settled themselves in the seat opposite 
to that of the Percivals. Mrs. Percival was evidently 
somewhat nervous, and her husband uneasy. The 
Sister’s habit was plainly an annoyance to him. At 
last the humor of the sudden silence seemed to strike 
Mrs. Percival. 

Are you thinking of the Inquisition, Edward ? ” 
and she laughed. 

The old gentleman looked confused. He had been 
thinking of the Inquisition. 

I wish you wouldn’t say such things, Margaret,” 
he said ; I really wish you wouldn’t.” 


A MAEEIAGE OF EEASON. 31 

Mrs. Percival laughed again, a low, trilling laugh, 
that brought a smile even to her husband’s lips. 

Come now, Edward, — just remember that this 
is my old Helen Banfort, and try to think that her 
habit is the symbol of a life that is better than ours. 
If she should produce a thumb-screw, remember that 
1 am here to protect you.” 

Mr. Percival laughed in spite of himself, and 
Katharine joined in it. They were friends from that 
moment. She laughed again. It was too funny to 
think of the gentle Sister Carmelita with a thumb- 
screw ! 

Mr. Percival unbent a little, and remarked that 
the means of travelling had improved. At the same 
time he looked at the serene face of Sister Carmelita, 
and wondered what secrets she might be concealing. 
Katharine’s expression disarmed him. His only 
child, a little girl, had died when a baby. He asked 
himself whether she would have grown up to be as 
fair and good as Katharine looked to be. 

In a short time Sister Carmelita was obliged to 
go ; she had reached her station. Poor Katharine 
clung to her to the last, and Mr. Percival found his 
eyes grow somewhat hazy as he watched the parting. 

At last she went. For a long time Mr. Percival 
did not look at her. He kept his eyes fixed on a 
book about Mexico he was reading. He was a man 
of almost invincible prejudices ; but when his heart 
was touched his prejudices flew away like swallows 
disturbed. 


32 


A MAERIAGE OF REASON. 


He did not believe in convent education. To be 
sure, his wife had been convent-bred, but she was an 
exception. He was of the opinion that girls ought 
to be brought up to fight the world ; he often talked 
of higher female education, and delighted in discuss- 
ing the discoveries that might yet be made in the 
sciences by women. He was violently opposed to 
Sisters or Nuns of every description, and he became 
the more violently fixed in his prejudices from the 
constant warfare his wife carried on for them. Here 
was a specimen of a convent-school girl, he said to 
himself, fresh from the hot-house : he would study, 
and show his wife through the results of this study, 
that he was right. 

Mrs. Percival watched Katharine, too ; she felt 
herself drawn to the young girl. After awhile, when 
Katharine had dropped a tear or two, she spoke : 

I imagine you will find kind friends to replace 
the nuns,^^ she said. 

Never,^’ said Katharine, never ! You don’t 
know what they have been to me. I shall count the 
days until I can get back to the convent again.” 

Mrs. Percival smiled. I thought so once myself, 
but I found other interests.” 

^^Ah, no interests will ever fill my life as the 
interests of the convent did ! ” 

Mr. Percival, with his eyes fixed on his book, 
made a mental note of this for the confusion of his 
wife at some future time ; — the girl evidently cared 
nothing for home; the Sisters had alienated her 


A MARKIAGE OF REASON. 


33 


affections from her parents. Bad ! bad ! he 
grunted to himself. 

Mrs. Percival heard the grunt and felt uncomfort- 
able. 

Never mind, my dear/^ she said, enjoy the 
present ; you are young and the day is pleasant ; 
when you see your mother or father you will forget 
the nuns.’’ 

I have no mother or father,” said Katharine ; 

perhaps if I had it would be different ; but I have 
never known any home but the convent.” 

Mr. Percival looked up from his book. And this 
girl, who seemed so gentle and graceful, whose every 
tone was modulated, who attracted him by her well- 
bred air and sensible face, had known no home but 
the convent.” He would await developments, how- 
ever. After all, he was probably deceived by 
appearances. Mrs. Percival felt that she might 
possibly add to Katharine’s sadness by speaking; 
she was silent. 

The newsboy came through the car with a package 
of books. Mr. Percival raised his eyes again ; he 
would see what this girl would want to read, — some 
trash, no doubt. The newsboy poised his package 
on the arm of Katharine’s seat ; it was made up of 
the usual vile and vulgar stuff*, which the law should 
prohibit. Katharine cast her eyes over the names of 
the books ; she shrank back from them. 

^^No, thank you,” she said ; and then she stopped 
him as he was going away : I wish you would 


34 


A MAERIAGE OF REASON. 


bring me ‘ The Angel of the House/ by Coventry 
Patmore. Sister Carmelita recommended it to us,” 
she said, turning to Mrs. Percival. 

Mr. Percival almost laughed. The verdancy of 
expecting such a book on a railway train. The 
newsboy stared. 

Never heard of it,” he said. Have Ouida, 
Daudet, Zola’s last — ” 

Stop ! ” said Mr. Percival ; that’s enough.” 

The boy passed on. 

I have a long list of books which I must read. 
I am trying to study the social question a little, and 
I am anxious to get half a dozen books on the sub- 
ject. Mother Ursula encouraged me ; she said that 
one might imitate St. Elizabeth of Hungary by find- 
ing out how to help poor people, by discovering the 
causes of their poverty, and how to alleviate it 
intelligently.” 

Mr. Percival smiled. These were strange words 
from a convent-school girl ! 

^^A-ah,” he said, “you have taken up the idea 
that women have missions, too. I didn’t think they 
taught such things in convents.” 

Katharine looked at him very seriously. 

“ I don’t remember that Mother Ursula ever used 
the word ^ mission,’ but she taught us that the great 
thing in life is to help other people, and she read to 
us much that the Count de Mun has written on the 
social question. She said that each girl ought to 
choose some special study and work, and I took — ” 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


35 


There was a sudden jar. The train came to a 
standstill. Mr. Percival turned white ; there was 
always in his mind the fear of death. Had it 
come?^^ he asked himself. His wife screamed. 
Katharine made the sign of the cross. She looked 
out the window and saw a broken buggy by the 
roadside, and a little child lying white and still. 
It took her only a few seconds to reach the platform 
and to descend to the ground. She reached the little 
thing before either the conductor or porter could 
approach it. She took it in her arms. The yellow 
ringlets, soft, and of the color of the daffodil, were 
in disorder ; the long black lashes covered the eyes ; 
the little heart throbbed, but faintly ; the lids lifted 
a moment and revealed soft, blue eyes, with a look 
of appeal in them. The child seemed to be about 
two years of age, not more. 

Katharine saw its color changing to ashy white 
and bore it into the car. She was followed by a 
woman, dazed-looking and dishevelled, with a cut 
on her forehead from which the blood was dripping. 
Katharine turned to her, unheeding the group on 
the platform, among which were the Percivals. 

Was the child baptized ? she asked. 

No, no ! moaned the woman. Oh, my sweet, 
little girl ! 

Katharine pushed her way gently to the dressing- 
case and filled a glass with water. Even Mr. Per- 
cival felt his heart thrill with awe as he saw her 
pour the water on the head of the child, while she 


36 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


clearly pronounced the words, I baptize you in the 
name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy 
Ghost 

The mother of the child burst into sobs, as Katha- 
rine gently laid the baby in her arms. The little 
girl opened her eyes again, smiled at her mother, 
and gently passed away. 

Oh, God bless you ! cried the mother, turning 
to Katharine, God bless you ! — No, I am not hurt 
much,’^ she said to the conductor ; I must go home, 
it is not far ! 

Katharine gave her a handkerchief and a bottle 
of cologne, and she went away in charge of one of 
the railroad hands. The train moved on ; but not 
until the passengers had heard the long, piteous wail 
of the mother, as she realized that her child was 
really dead. 

Mrs. Percival kissed Katharine again, and her 
husband looked at the girl with new respect. 


CHAPTER lY. 


A Social Question. 


7y\ RS. PERCIVAL and the Sherwoods did 
1 A. not move in the same social set. In fact, 
the Sherwoods were, in Mrs. PercivaPs estimation, 
very inferior people. Why, no creature not born 
in Philadelphia could tell ; but the reason of it was 
sufficiently plain to Mrs. Percival. 

Mrs. Sherwood, too, admitted it with anguish ; 
the grandfathers of Mr. and Mrs. Sherwood were 
unknown to the compiler of Watson’s Annals — that 
record of the new aristocracy of the Quaker City — 
and, consequently, there was a great social gulf 
between them and Mrs. Percival, whose grandfather 
had been a highly esteemed clerk in the Bank of 
which Nicholas Biddle was president, and whose 
grand-aunt had married a relative of Benedict 
Arnold. This, in Philadelphia, gave Mrs. Percival 
a most important position. She had gone to the far 
West for a time with her husband, who had large 
interests at Duluth, and it was expected that her 
return to Philadelphia would be signalized by a very 
brilliant season of afternoon teas and dinner parties. 
She had taken a house in one of the streets within 
4 37 


38 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


the visiting limits of the best people, and her coming 
arrival had been heralded in all the papers. 

If Katharine had been a young woman of the 
world, she would have been grateful for the good 
fortune of having been able to make the acquaintance 
of this distinguished social magnate. But her edu- 
cation in the convent had taught her to be simple 
and pure and kind ; she knew very little of social 
distinctions, and she was entirely deficient in the art 
of giving pain in a polite way, so well studied by 
even younger girls than herself, in that gay world 
which looks on convent education as narrow. 

Mrs. Percival was not unaware of her own social 
importance in the city of her birth, but she had 
travelled too much to overrate it; she knew how 
little it counted in other places; nevertheless she 
was inclined to make the most of it. In spite of her 
strong faith and her devotion to the Church, Mrs. 
Percival was very worldly : and, if she had known 
it, this defect was the chief obstacle in the way of 
the removal of her husband’s prejudices against the 
Church. 

Apparently, Mr. Percival was indifferent and at 
times bigoted ; in reality, he was anxious to know 
and to be convinced ; he admired in his heart many 
of the beauties of his wife’s religion, but he could 
not believe that it was to her what she said it was ; 
since, after her return from an early Mass — at which 
she had asssisted on a winter’s morning at the expense 
of her health, in his opinion — she would coldly ^^cut” 


A MAKRIAGE OF REASON. 


39 


an undesirable acquaintance who presumed to bow 
to her, and show an iciness in words toward her 
neighbors, that made Mr. Percival fancy that her 
faith was inadequate to affect all her works. Again, 
she was quite willing to join in his uncharitable jibes 
at people, and sometimes to meet his ill temper with 
ill temper. He knew he was wrong in doing these 
things, and he expected her to be better than he was. 
So long as her conduct corresponded with his, he 
said to himself that her religion could really be no 
better than his want of religion. He had been quick 
to recognize Katharine^s simplicity and charitable- 
ness ; and her utter regardlessness of her surround- 
ings, her tenderness of look and gesture to the poor 
little child, her evident faith, and the gratitude of 
the mother, made him feel grateful to have met her. 
Mrs. Percival was touched, too, but when she began 
to explain in an apologetic way how absolutely neces- 
sary the Sacrament of Baptism was, Mr. Percival 
listened impatiently. 

Your words spoil it all, my dear,” he said ; I 
saw that it was a matter of life and death by the 
young woman’s manner and the mother’s gratitude. 
I hope you will find out with whom Miss O’Conor 
is staying, if she is going to Philadelphia, and invite 
her to our house.” 

Mrs. Percival looked perplexed. 

don’t know that an acquaintance like this 
ought to be continued, you know; she is a very 
sweet girl, but her people may be hopeless — ” 


40 


A MAKRIAGE OF REASON. 


You mean that they may live below Pine Street 
or above Callowhill, or wherever your foolish lines 
extend/’ said Mr. Percival, with irritation ; and 
you are willing to miss the chance of seeing more of 
that sweet, young creature, simply because of such 
idiotic nonsense. And she’s a Catholic, too ! ” 

^^One can’t invite every Catholic one knows to 
one’s dinner parties — ” 

‘^But I should think you might ask the nice ones 
— I am sure they are few and far between, and when 
you find one you ought to make the most of it.” 

Mrs. Percival’s color rose. 

Catholics are just as good socially as — ” 

‘‘1 don’t intend to quarrel about it,” said her 
husband, wearily, and I hate all this ^ social ’ talk. 
That’s the reason I liked Duluth. Nobody seemed 
to have any ^social position’ there; it was all a 
question of corner lots. Now here’s a nice young 
woman — the kind of young woman I’d like to have 
for a daughter. Anybody can see sincerity in her 
face, and I’ve not heard such a soft voice in an age. 
You are very kind to her until we get near Phila- 
delphia, and then an inhuman spirit of calculation 
takes posession of you. ^ Mighty Mrs. Grundy,’ you 
say to yourself ; ^ she may perhaps live in South 
Street.’ I presume that, by the time we get nearer 
to the City of Brotherly Love, you will ^cut her 
dead.’ ” 

Mrs. Percival bit her lip. 

I thought you were not fond of Catholics.” 


A MAERIAGE OF REASON. 


41 


I have always been very fond of you^^ he said, 
with a slight smile. I like anybody that does 
right ; I like unspoiled people ; youVe often told 
me that I am a man of prejudices, and so I am ; but 
when they give away once, — they’re gone ! — that’s 
all!” 

Mrs. Percival said nothing. It astonished her to 
see that her husband was affected by Katharine’s 
faith ; she had imagined that the girl’s act in bapti- 
zing the little child would have prejudiced him 
against her. She liked Katherine herself ; but she 
had no intention of embarrassing herself with an 
acquaintance who might not belong to her own social 
sphere ; she made a practice of knowing nobody who 
was not invited to the annual dance, given every 
year under the name of the Assembly. It had be- 
come, as she admitted, frightfully mixed ” of late ; 
but still it was not altogether promiscuous. The fact 
that Katharine was travelling in a special compart- 
ment was not pleasant to Mrs. Percival. She was 
probably of some newly rich family, and Mrs. Per- 
cival abhorred such folk. The newly poor might be 
nice, but the newly rich never could be, in her esti- 
mation. 

Katharine came out of the compartment where she 
had arranged her hair, somewhat disordered by her 
hasty action. The brightness of her face almost 
caused Mrs. Percival to forget her doubts. As for 
Mr. Percival he welcomed her warmly. Mrs. Perci- 
val said in her heart that there was no understanding 


42 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


men. Here was her husband, the most bigoted of 
mortals, suddenly showing the greatest interest in a 
young stranger, whose principal claim to his atten- 
tion was that she had showed herself a devout Cath- 
olic ! Mrs. Percival resolved to go straight to the 
point. 

^^Are you going to Philadelphia, Miss O’Conor ? ” 
No,” answered Katharine, I am to get oif at 
Ronaldsburg; I am to stay with Mr. and Mrs. 
Sherwood.” 

Mrs. Percival groaned in spirit. The Sherwoods ! 
rich, new people, whose sole aim for five years had 
been to get into that exclusive set of which she was 
a leading member. Much as she liked the girl, she 
could not ask her to visit her, because, in that case, 
she would have to call on Mrs. Sherwood ; and no 
doubt the artful creatures would be only too glad to 
crawl into the best set in Philadelphia by means of 
this very charming girl. Mrs. Percival made up 
her mind hastily ; she really could not afford to 
know Katharine — she really could not ! 

Mr. Percival frowned ; he read his wife’s thoughts. 
It seemed strange to him that so good a woman 
should be so hopelessly tyrannized by senseless rules ; 
but he said nothing ; he moved restlessly, and his 
cushions became disarranged. Katharine repaired 
the accident very gently and deftly. In so doing, 
her rosary fell near Mr. Percival; he picked it up 
and looked at it. 

It is like my wife’s,” he said. 


A MAKRIAGE OF REASON. 


43 


am sure I have tried to explain to you all 
about it over and over again/’ Mrs. Percival said, 
but you will not learn.” 

Perhaps if I had one of my own — ” said Mr. 
Percival, smiling. 

Oh, yes, — keep it,” said Katharine, and I am 
sure you will love it very much ; when I am sick it 
helps me so much, and I always get everything I 
ask for — ” 

You do?” said the old gentleman, smiling. 

Mrs. Percival looked annoyed. This school-girl 
prattle would be alluded to later, she felt sure, by 
her husband as superstition.” If girls could only 
be taught to hold their tongues ! 

We are near Ponaldsburg,” she said. 

Katharine started ; the tears came into her eyes ; 
she would have given the world to be back at the 
convent, but there was no turning back now. The 
future suddenly became dark, and even the Percivals 
seemed, as she was leaving them, to be old friends. 
The porter came up obsequiously — she must go ! 
She shook Mr. PercivaFs hand and kissed his wife, 
her eyes glistening with tears. 

She is a nice girl ! ” said Mrs. Percival, as she 
passed out; ‘^and there’s the carriage of those 
upstarts, the Sherwoods — two men on the box and a 
blazing coat-of-arms. It’s disgusting ! Poor child, 
I hope she will not suffer from her surroundings ! ” 
Mr. Percival laughed. It seems a pretty place, 
and that was certainly a fine carriage. She’ll survive 


44 


A MAERIAGE OF REASON. 


her drawbacks I hope, and I intend to be kind to 
her if I should meet her anywhere.’’ 

We’ll not meet anywhere. Why, nobody in 
Philadelphia knows the Sherwoods.” 

How absurd you are ! One would think that 
your experience would have made you less narrow- 
minded. Mr. Sherwood is highly respected ; he is a 
model of integrity.” 

Oh, that only applies to business. Besides, he 
kept a retail shop not fifteen years ago in Front 
Street somewhere.” 

I can only repeat that your ideas are as old- 
fashioned as they are unreasonable.” 

Not more so than your ideas on religion ! ” 
snapped Mrs. Percival. 

‘^Ah, well,” said her husband, with a sigh, 
think if we had a daughter like the little girl that 
just left us, I might begin to see what is underneath 
all your ceremonies.” 

Mrs. Percival was in a wretched frame of mind. 
The only evils to be really feared in this world are 
those we bring on ourselves, either by our weakness 
or viciousness. Mrs. Percival had generally the 
consolation in the disputes with her husband of be- 
lieving that he was entirely in the wrong. But she 
felt that, in this instance, he had honesty and sincer- 
ity on his side. Miss O’Conor might help her to 
make him understand the true beauty of the Church ; 
but even for that she could not ‘Hake up” those 
odious Sherwoods ! People with a coat-of-arms 


A MAERIAGE OF REASON. 


45 


which did not belong to them, and a crest no doubt 
picked up at Dreka^s — people who were not even 
clever enough not to appear new. How would it 
look if they should have to be invited to Mr. Perci- 
vaPs country-seat, when she should have her next 
garden-party ! Positively, all Philadelphia would 
laugh, if she, the exclusive of exclusives, should 
allow their names to appear in The Ledger among 
her guests, — no, she could not think of it. And yet 
she knew she was wrong ; but nobody but a woman, 
brought up in her narrow social atmosphere, can 
imagine the extent of the sacrifiee it needed for her 
to become right. 

Besides, suppose Wirt were to take a fancy to 
this unknown young girl ! she said. William AVirt 
Percival was her husband’s nephew. 

It would be much to his credit ! ” cried Mr. 
Percival, closing his lips tight. “Or,” he added, 
with a touch of malice, “suppose your brother 
Ferdinand should admire her sufficiently to propose 
to her ! ” 

Mrs. Percival turned white; her husband had 
struck home. She resented his allusion to the skele- 
ton in the closet. She said to herself that “ marriage 
was a failure,” and he irritably murmured that 
“ women were fools.” She dared not pray, for she 
knew she was wrong, and he did not know how ; 
and so they rode on in silence, until the great dome 
of the Cathedral came into view ; then she spoke to 
him about the baggage. 


CHAPTER V. 


^^That Girl!’^ 


ONALDSBURG was the nearest station to 



11 Kenwood, on the railroad line which had 
brought Katharine from Our Lady of the Rosary. 
At the last moment, Mrs. Sherwood had remembered 
that her Browning Society would meet, and she had 
merely sent the carriage to Ronaldsburg, and not 
even her own carriage, for she needed that herself, 
but an equally elegant neighbor’s — hence Mrs. Per- 
cival did her wrong when she attributed a coat-of- 
arms to her. 

Katharine stood for a moment on the platform, 
feeling very much alone. One of the men jumped 
off the box, tipped his hat, and asked if she were 
Miss O’Conor. At this moment two young men 
who were standing under the shadow of the orna- 
mental gable of the station approached. Katharine 
did not notice them ; if she had, she would have seen 
that one was handsome, the other distinguished look- 
ing. ' One was Wirt Percival ; the other, Ferdinand 
Carey. They had ridden to Ronaldsburg, in the 
hope of seeing the Percivals and of inducing them to 
stop at Wirt’s country-house. 


46 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


47 


Wirt Percival was, in appearance, so excessively 
English that one would have imagined that he had 
dropped from the atmosphere of that tight little 
island,^^ just as he was. He was very blonde, with 
a straight nose that Du Maurier might have drawn, 
a long back, and he effected a great stride when he 
walked. He wore an ill-fitting suit of gray tweed, 
with Knickerbockers, and carried a heavy whip. 
His face was genial and bright ; but his wide-open 
blue eyes seemed to have no depths in them. 

Ferdinand Carey was dressed with great care. His 
tall hat was almost too glossy ; the lapel of his long 
frock coat was adorned with a bunch of stephanotis, 
and a very evident crease was visible in his gray 
trousers. He was tall and slight, with features rather 
large and irregular ; he looked tired and uninterested ; 
but when his dark eyes rested on Katharine he sud- 
denly seemed alert. 

A new beauty, Wirt,’^ he said, who can she be ? 
— she is going to get into the Parkes’ carriage. Who 
can she be ? 

Don’t know,” Wirt answered, with a drawl. 
^^She looks smart, — haven’t seen a smarter walk 
than that for some time, — walks like an English 
girl.” 

While the man was looking after Katharine’s 
luggage, Mr. Wirt Percival tried to discover who 
she was. But the coachman trained to silence, gave 
no information. He had absolutely nothing to do, 
for he had started to follow at Eonaldsburg what he 


48 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


fondly believed was the career of an English country 
gentleman. Eonaldsbiirg was a quite place, and a 
new arrival made an epoch ; Ferdinand, who was a 
partner in a commission firm on Front Street, had 
merely run up in the hope of meeting his sister. 
Ferdinand had special reasons for being fond of his 
sister, — she knew a secret which gave him great 
pain, and in her only could he confide. Just at this 
time, he was anxious indeed to see her, for an impor- 
tant crisis had come in his life. He was tired of his 
present life, unhappy, anxious. It was very well to 
lead ^^germans’’ — no man in Philadelphia knew how 
to make a cotillon go better than Ferdinand Carey, 
— very well to be almost a necessary guest at all 
important dinners, very well to have a pedigree 
which approached the great shade of Nicholas 
Biddle; but this was not sufficient. He was rich 
enough, healthy enough, and he had written a 
little book of poems which had gone through 
two editions. In fact, some of the best Phila- 
delphians had been heard to say that he might 
some day be as great as Mr. Boker; but all 
this was not enough ; he was unhappy. The sight 
of Katharine^s pure, young face startled him for 
a moment out of his habitual mood. He sunk into 
it again. What right had he to gaze at such a 
face? 

I don’t see anything for me, except suicide,” he 
said to himself, and by Jove, I’ll do it sooner or 
later ! ” 


A MAEEIAGE OP EEASON. 


49 


Wirt Percival, in the meantime, saw with delight 
that Katharine had dropped a little vinaigrette, one 
of the school gifts. The man was just shutting the 
carriage door when Wirt stopped him. 

Permit me. Miss — ah — Miss — he said, stand- 
ing near the step. He paused, with the vinaigrette 
in his hand. Katharine saw at once that he wanted 
to know her name. Her face glowed and her eyes 
lighted up ; he seemed a very queer figure to her, for 
she had never had the privilege of seeing an English- 
American country gentleman in the attire he assumes 
when he rides over his estates. 

Thank you,” she said, taking the crystal bottle. 

You are very kind.” 

She smiled again, and the carriage drove off. He 
felt that he looked blank, and he thought that there 
was just a tinge of mischief in her smile. 

What a voice ! ” he said : she must be English, 
— American girls donT have voices like that. And 
she must be of a good family or else she would have 
taken the hint and flirted a little. Too bad ! — don’t 
suppose we’ll meet her, — the Parkes are not one of 
the county families, you know.” 

Ferdinand laughed sardonically. 

“ Oh, bother, your county families ! — you’ll never 
succeed in introducing that kind of exclusiveness 
here. People like to play with English fashions, 
but they don’t and won’t take them seriously, — she 
really looks like a smart girl, and her dress fits her 
so badly, that she may possibly be English ; — ^you’ll 


50 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


meet her at some of the large assemblies, to which 
the Parkes, the Sherwoods and that sort of people 
are asked ; so don’t worry.” 

The idea of a creature like that going to the 
Parkes’ — why the Parkes are nobody. Old Parke 
sold codfish at retail not five years ago, — w^here did 
they pick her up ? ” 

Nonsense ! Be sensible and natural, — I’m in the 
fruit business, and everybody — ” 

^^But it’s wholesale,” said Wirt, eagerly, ‘^and 
you’ve a pedigree ! ” 

^^I’ve been told so often enough, — but we both 
know it’s all bosh. Come, Wirt,” he said, wearily, 
let’s get home. My sister would probably have 
stopped, if we had got here in time, — and I am sorry 
we didn’t ; as it is, let us go home.” 

The two mounted their horses. Wirt pulled his 
cap over his eyes, and put a briarwood pipe between 
his teeth. He was silent. After they had ridden 
half a mile, he said. 

Believe that girl was laughing at me ! ” 

''What girl?” 

"Oh, that girl.” 

" Probably.” 

This was the only answer Ferdinand made ; and 
Wirt did not get much consolation out of it. They 
drew up in front of a square, old house, stuccoed in 
faded yellow, and adorned with a fa9ade and Corin- 
thian pillars. The lawns around were as perfectly 
kept as the lawns of Pennsylvanian country-houses 


A MAERIAGE OF REASON. 


51 


generally are. They had been cultivated more care- 
fully than flowers, and they were softer in color than 
emeralds, and even softer than velvet to the tread. 

Wirt had inherited Bolingbroke; the place had 
been called for the false philosopher who formed 
Voltaire and misled poor Pope. It was a large 
estate, well-wooded, beautifully diversified, such a 
place as, in this country, is found only in that 
State where 

“ All the air is balm, and the peach is the emblem of beauty.” 

The interior of the house had been modernized. 
The old floors, on which the minuet had been danced, 
had been straightened and waxed until they shone, 
and the old marble chimney-pieces carefully restored. 
But all the coldness and barrenness of the colonial 
idea of interior architecture had been destroyed by 
Wirt^s love of color; rich draperies hung everywhere, 
statuettes, old lamps, stained glass, and Japanese 
curios, — the spoil of many European journeys. 

It struck five o’clock as they entered. The wide 
hall glowed with the light of a fire in the open grate. 

^^Ah, this is charming,” said Ferdinand with a 
sigh, as he threw himself into an arm-chair covered 
with the skin of a Japanese goat. A man came in 
bearing a tray, on which was tea for Wirt and a glass 
of sherry for Ferdinand. 

There was no pearl powder about said Wirt, 
thoughtfully, standing with his back to the fire in 
the approved English fashion. 


52 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


Oh, her ! responded Wirt, impatiently. 

It is comfortable here,’^ said Ferdinand. What 
a pleasure it is to have a home ! ’’ 

Why don^t you build a house of your own ? 

Ferdinand^s olive-colored face seemed to grow 
darker. 

^‘What would be the use? What is a house 
without a wife and children, — what is it?’’ 

Yes, what is it?” said Wirt, looking about at 
all his luxury. That’s just what I’ve been think- 
ing. I’ve been everywhere, I’ve seen everything, 
and now I want to settle down. Did you ever see 
such an air ? — I haven’t seen anything so smart as 
that walk of hers since I was in England ! She 
didn’t wear tight shoes and wobble, — she walked. 
She must be English ! ” 

^^Who?” demanded Ferdinand, with a slight 
smile. 

Oh, that girl ! ” 

You ought to be happy here, Wirt,” Ferdinand 
said, when he had finished his sherry, and found a 
cigar to suit him, you have made no great mistake 
in life.” 

Yes, I have,” said Wirt, holding the tea-ball in 
his little Japanese cup; ^^yes, I have, — I haven’t 
married.” 

Ferdinand sighed again. It is a mistake on the 
right side,” he said. After that, he went off to dress 
for dinner, leaving Wirt to wonder what he meant. 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


53 


Katharine laughed out loud after the carriage 
started. The young man showed so plainly that he 
wanted to know her name, and looked so queer. 

This gust of amusement carried her in good spirits 
to her uncle’s very door. Mr. Sherwood’s house was 
a very beautiful one. He had escaped the Queen 
Anne epidemic and built a house of rough brown- 
stone, which was both imposing and comfortable. A 
profuse growth of ivy took away its look of newness, 
and Mr. Sherwood had the good sense not to tinker 
with the grounds around it and spoil the picture. 
He left the grounds to an expert landscape gardener ; 
and his reward was great. Katharine, nervous as 
she was, could not help admiring the gradual ap- 
proach to the house, for Mr. Sherwood had not built 
on the roadside. 

Who would meet her? What should she say, — 
oh, what should she say? She felt for her dear 
beads, but they were gone ; she had given them to 
Mr. Percival. Before she had time to think again, 
the man opened the carriage-door, — and the awful 
moment had come ! 

But it was not so terrible, after all. Mr. Sherwood 
came down the steps to meet her. 

Uncle Marcus ! ” she said ; there was something 
in her tone so like his dead mother’s, that he took 
her in his arms and kissed her forehead, though he 
was prepared only to shake hands. 

Katharine’s eyes filled with tears. Farther back 
in the hall, under two arching palm-trees, was her 
5 


54 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


aunt. Mrs. Sherwood^s attire was exceedingly cor- 
rect and her pose impressive. She made two steps 
forward, curved her right arm on a level with her 
shoulder, and let her hand droop. Katharine went 
forward, and, embarrassed by this manoeuvre, paused 
blushing. 

So glad to see you, dear, — ever so glad ! said 
Mrs. Sherwood, still curving her arm. 

^^Take your aunt’s hand, dear,” whispered her 
uncle, she wants you to shake hands. That’s the 
smart way of doing it now.” 

Katharine blundered badly; but fortunately her 
aunt took no notice of her awkwardness or her 
uncle’s whisper. 

^^We dine at seven,” Mrs. Sherwood said; “Mark- 
ham will show you to your room.” 

Katharine, feeling guilty and abased, followed the 
prim maid upstairs. 

“Well, she’s here,” said Mrs. Sherwood, “and it’s 
a great responsibility. She’s not as ugly as she 
seemed to be in her black gown ; but she’s terribly 
unformed. Her convent bearing is against her.” 

“Not at all,” said Mr. Sherwood cheerfully, “you’ll 
find it will help her. For myself, I did not see any- 
thing ^ unformed ’ about her, except that she hadn’t 
learned your cockney habit of shaking hands, as 
Punch says : 

“ Her arm, in lifted curve displayed, 

Drops limply o’er the shoulder-blade. 

As needing some chirurgeon’s aid ; 


A MAREIAGE OF REASON. 


55 


‘‘ Her wrist is wren died of Jones and Brown, 

These ornaments of London town ; 

Three listless fingers dribble down — ” 

That sort of thing is very vulgar. I hope you’ll 
not laugh at decent manners before that girl/’ said 
Mrs. Sherwood. I’m sure she’ll disgrace us in 
some way.” 

In the meantime that girl ” had taken out her 
statuette of the Blessed Mother, and was praying and 
crying before it. 


CHAPTER yi. 


Artlessness and Heartlessness. 


RS. SHERWOOD, in entire ignorance of 



the interest her guest had created, was dis- 


posed to bewail her fate — in having her on her hands. 

^^Why is it, Marcus,’’ she said, ^^that our rela- 
tives are never of any use to us either financially 
or socially ? Some people have poor relations who 
have social advantages. There were those upstarts, 
the Worths, for instance. Positively nobody visited 
them until a second cousin of theirs, a French mar- 
quis — ” 

‘^Poor, but proud,” interrupted her husband, drop- 
ping his newspaper — they were taking their morning 
drive to the train. “All that come here are.” 

“Don’t interrupt me. I wish we had one in 
the family; nothing goes now like a title. Those 
Worths found out this marquis in ’76; he came 
over for the Centennial Exposition.” 

“He was a waiter at the Trois Frtres on the 
Exposition Grounds — I remember him well — ” 

“ Never mind ! ” said Mrs. Sherwood, sharply. 
“ ^ True hearts are more than coronets, and simple 
faith than Norman blood.’ ” 


56 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


57 


Exactly/^ said her husband gravely, though 
a woman of society like yourself is the last per- 
son I should expect to hear quoting that. And, 
if it be true, let us be grateful that this little 
girl has come into our house. If I mistake 
not, she has a true heart, if she has no social 
'prestlgeJ^ 

Mrs. Sherwood took a smelling-bottle, encrusted 
with moon-stones, from her reticule. She used it 
as Talleyrand used his snuff-box, to gain time for 
thought, and probably to keep her temper. 

^^But these Worths made a great deal of their 
marquis, though they were really nobody them- 
selves. Our relatives are absolute drags on us, and 
this ^ little girl,’ as you call her, is not at all likely 
to make a brilliant match. A girl to do that in 
Philadelphia must be exceedingly well-born or ex- 
ceedingly rich.” 

Mr. Sherwood smiled. 

suppose I shall shock you, my dear, but I 
must say that I do not care whether she marries 
brilliantly or not. Besides, what would be con- 
sidered a brilliant marriage here might not really 
be a brilliant marriage.” 

would be happy,” cried Mrs. Sherwood, de- 
voutly, ^^if she should by some good luck marry 
Wirt Percival ! That would give us everything we 
want.” 

Hardly,” said Mr. Sherwood, a little sadly, for 
I want peace. Sometimes I canT help wondering 


58 


A MAEEIAGE OF EEASON. 


if there isn’t something to be got out of life that 
will lasty 

What on earth do you mean ? ” exclaimed his 
wife, looking at him anxiously. ^^Your liver is 
certainly out of order.” 

Perhaps it is.” He said no more; but the 
sight of Katharine had awakened an unusual train 
of thought. Mrs. Sherwood, who had not the 
slightest conception of this current in her husband’s 
mind, continued to talk. 

The girl must make a marriage of reason, and 
we must try to keep her out of the way of any 
young person who might not be an eligible catch. 
One detrimental is enough, and if she should marry 
the wrong man, we’d have two on our hands.” 

^^Oh, that reminds me,” said Mr. Sherwood, 
suddenly wakening up from his unusually serious 
reverie, ^‘Katharine’s a Catholic; she may object 
to a marriage with anybody outside her church.” 

“She mayf’^ exclaimed Mrs. Sherwood, plying 
the smelling-bottle again. “ I guess she may not! ’ 
And Mrs. Sherwood frowned portentously. “ That’s 
the way with these convent-school girls — they have 
prejudices. A woman should be brought up not to 
be too particular, I think. If a girl nowadays mar- 
ries a nice man in good society, with enough money 
to support her, she should not be too particular 
about religion. It’s most unreasonable ! ” 

Mr. Sherwood shook his head ; he saw a cloud 
on the liorizon and he wished that his wife were a 


A MAKEIAGE OF REASON. 


59 


little more “ unreasonable and a little less devoted 
to society.’^ 

Mrs. Sherwood said good-bye to her husband at 
the train. She did not meet Katharine until lunch- 
eon-time. She had prepared a series of remarks 
principally intended to make her guest understand 
that life would henceforth be very different from 
what it had been at the convent. Katharine was a 
little afraid of Mrs. Sherwood ; she had an instinc- 
tive feeling that her aunt did not like her, and she 
had been accustomed to an atmosphere in which love 
was like ozone in the air of the sea. Katharine had 
a great wish to be loved ; she felt that life must be a 
burden if she lived at Kenwood with people who 
disapproved of her. This desire to be thought well 
of would have been a great disadvantage to a girl 
less carehilly educated than Katharine had been ; 
but Mother Ursula had not permitted it to domi- 
nate her, and Katharine had been taught to guard 
against the weakness of character which such a 
desire often engenders. And yet it was so promi- 
nent in Katharine’s temperament, that it often 
required a great struggle for her to say No.” 
Happily she had learned strength from Mother 
Ursula. She was inclined to propitiate Mrs. 
Sherwood. 

The lady watched her closely without appearing 
to do so. She came to the conclusion that Katharine 
had an interesting face, but somewhat insipid.” 
Her dress would have to be remodeled, and she was 


60 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


SO very quiet. Mrs. Sherwood, looking at her, con- 
cluded that convent education was a failure. 

If she had been at a fashionable boarding-school,’’ 
she thought, she would have some manners ; if at 
a woman’s college, she could at least talk. What on 
earth shall I do with a creature like this on my 
hands ? ” 

She drank her chocolate in bitterness of spirit. 
But she must make a beginning somehow ; but why, 
oh why, had Marcus brought this affliction upon her ? 

You will arrange your hours to give me a little 
time occasionally, will you not?” she said sweetly. 

Oh, certainly,” said Katharine, I shall always 
be at your service.” 

Dear, dear ! ” sighed Mrs. Sherwood, “ such 
sweetness will kill me if she keeps it up ! These 
convents mistake that sort of amiability for educa- 
tion.” And then aloud : You are to be brought 
out soon, you know.” 

Katharine looked up, startled. Brought out ! ” 
What new process was this ? 

You know,” said Mrs. Sherwood, with despair 
at her heart, that I have no daughter to introduce 
to society, so I shall quite enjoy introducing you. 
And we must get some gowns and things. I sup- 
pose you will not need my helping you to choose 
them.” 

^^Oh, why can’t I stay in?” asked Katharine 
eagerly. I’m sure I’ll be quite happy with you 
and my uncle — when I get to know you better — ” 


A MAERIAGE OF KEASON. 


61 


Here she slipped, flushing a little. ^^That is — of 
course — I am very fond of you — ’’ 

Don’t trouble yourself to apologize,” said Mrs. 
Sherwood ; it doesn’t matter. I know what you’re 
thinking about; of course you can’t like people 
rapturously at flrst, and I hope you will not pretend 
to.” 

Mrs. Sherwood had understood that they were 
very sly in convents, and she intended this as a 
rebuke. We have some very clever literary people 
at Kenwood ; we have societies — of course you are 
literary.” 

I don’t know — exactly, — that is — ” 

Mrs. Sherwood’s manner was really too much for 
Katharine. She knew that she was showing herself 
at her worst, and yet she could not help it. 

You read Browning, of course ? ” 

I have not read much of — ” 

I thought not,” interrupted Mrs. Sherwood ; 
but we’ll try a little of his easy work every day 
after your uncle is gone. I feel, dear, that I will 
have to bring you up to the modern standard in some 
things. I’m afraid the Sisters have neglected you.” 
Oh, not at all ! ” Katharine exclaimed eagerly. 
I assure you, that if I lack many things it is not 
their fault.” 

I suppose they thought Dickens too vulgar for 
young ladies, and Thackeray too cynical, and Shake- 
speare impossible,” Mrs. Sherwood said, growing 
better humored as she became conscious of her own 


62 


A MAREIAGE OF REASON. 


superior culture. I know the sort of atmosphere 
you lived in. Do you sing ? 

little/^ began Katharine, really distressed; 
that is — ’’ 

Dear, dear ! said Mrs. Sherwood, quite pleased 
now to find that her feeling of superiority was likely 
to be permanent. I must make you thorough in 
something. Of course you dance ? 

I have danced ; but we never learned regularly. 
Indeed, aunt, you misunderstand the Sisters — 

Oh, no, I don’t,’^ said Mrs. Sherwood — and then 
to the servant : Give Miss O’Conor some of the 
orange-tart, Charlotte ! ” 

No, thank you ! ” said Katharine, almost 
choking ; and then remembering that her aunt 
would probably expect her to take something, she 
asked for the strawberry ice-cream. 

Mrs. Sherwood looked horrified. 

Nobody says ice-cream now, my dear. It’s an 
Americanism. Ask for an ^ ice,’ not ice-cream.” 

Katharine swallowed the rebuke and the contents 
of the dainty gilded cup in silence. But at the 
moment she longed with all her heart to be back at 
school. This last trifling correction seemed to affect 
her more than all the other things her aunt had said. 
She looked out of the window and sighed. Mrs. 
Sherwood took up the paper, and dipped into a 
paragraph here and there. 

Dear me ! ” she murmured, how people do 
climb up ! To think of the Mackenzies writing their 


A MAKRIAGE OF REASON. 


63 


name with a hyphen — Clifton-Mackenzie. Why 
her name wasn’t Clifton at all ; it was Hoggs — they 
kept a shop on South Street when we — ” Here she 
prudently stopped without revealing where Mr. 
Sherwood had kept a shop at the same time. 

They’ve actually had an afternoon tea, with lots of 
smart people at it.” Katharine went on with her 
cream, trying to keep the tears back. She would not 
cry ; why should she cry. Her aunt did not mean 
to be unkind. Oh, how stupid she had been, and 
how much ashamed of her the Sisters would be. 
She must try to think of something by which to 
redeem herself. But she could not; and a tear 
actually slid down her cheek. Did you ever ! ” 
exclaimed Mrs. Sherwood. Did you ever see how 
some people manage to climb? The Worths have 
really got an earl’s daughter stopping with them. 
An earl’s daughter is called ^ the Lady,’ isn’t she ? ” 

I don’t know,” said Katharine, with a dreadful 
sense of guiltiness. 

Of course not,” said Mrs. Sherwood, raising her 
eyebrows. They’ve got an aristocratic person from 
Dublin. Dear me ! I thought Dublin was all bogs 
and slums. She’s the Lady Alicia — by the way,” 
continued Mrs. Sherwood, a faint hope stealing into 
her heart, ^^your father was an Irishman, wasn’t 
he?” 

Yes,” said Katharine, he came from Dublin.” 

^^Do you know anybody there?” asked Mrs. 
Sherwood, her eyes sparkling. If there were really 


64 


A MAREIAGE OP EEASON. 


ladies of title in Dublin — a thing she had never 
understood before — why might not Katharine per- 
haps help her to hook one for social purposes. Her 
hopes sank as Katharine answered : 

^‘1 know two people who write to me — Father 
Corwin, the Jesuit, and Biddy Singen, my cousin.” 

Oh, how vulgar ! ” said Mrs. Sherwood. Sin- 
gen ! — what a name ! — and ^ Biddy ! ’ I hope this 
friend of yours is not a servant. I hope you won’t 
talk too much about ^ Biddy Singen ; ’ she must be 
quite too awfully low ! ” 

Katharine kept her tears back ; her cheeks flushed. 

I must tell you, aunt, that in her last letter Biddy 
said she might come here to Philadelphia on a visit ; 
and I love and respect her so that I hate to hear the 
slightest thing said sneeringly about her ; but then 
you judge her by her name, which sounds odd to 
you. I hope I may see her when she comes here.” 

“Here ! ” repeated Mrs. Sherwood, aghast. “ You 
may see her in the kitchen. Understand me, Katha- 
rine, you must give up all your low isolations. It’s 
hard enough for us to keep our place in society with- 
out handicapping ourselves with vulgar people of the 
lowest kind. ^ Biddy Singen ; indade ! ’ ” said Mrs. 
Sherwood, with one of those bad imitations of a pre- 
sumed Irish brogue which make the judicious grieve 
and the injudicious indignant. 

“ If you and Uncle Marcus will not permit me to 
see my cousin — and I love her dearly, though I have 
never seen her — I would rather not stay here.” 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


65 


High tragedy, my dear ! said Mrs. Sherwood, 
raising her eyeglass ; “ a reminiscence of convent 
theatricals ! When your cousin comes over, as I 
presume she will in the steerage, you may see her — 
in the kitchen.’’ 

Katharine was silent. This seemed very brutal 
to her ; she murmured a prayer that she might have 
strength to endure it. What a life was before her — 
how wretched, how artificial ! This was only the 
first of her days at Kenwood, and she failed in every 
possible way ; her dear Sisters had been insulted and 
her cousin reviled. 

If you could see Biddy’s letters you would not 
call her vulgar, aunt,” she said, making a last effort. 

Mrs. Sherwood smiled. 

So Biddy can make pot-hooks, can she ? ” said 
her aunt pleasantly. 

If you could see her photograph — ” 

No more of Biddy,” said Mrs. Sherwood per- 
emptorily. ^^I shall want you to accompany me 
into town at three o’clock. You must have some 
decent clothes before Thursday week, for there’s a 
musicale and a flower-show, to which we really must 
go ; you can go to a place like that before you’re 
^ out,’ you know.” 

Katharine did not know what her aunt meant, nor 
did she care. She went upstairs and had a good 
cry. Then she apostrophized Mother Ursula, as if 
she were a saint, forgetting how often she had 
grumbled against her decisions in the old days. 


CHAPTER VII. 


A New Social Standard. 

I T takes very little to depress the spirits of young 
people, and much less to send them up to the 
highest point of the thermometer. Katharine, 
knowing that Mrs. Sherwood looked on her as an 
ignoramus, suffered for a while the acutest misery. 
How could she ever gain the respect of that uncom- 
promisingly critical woman ? she asked herself. 
And the worst of it was, that she was not the only 
subject of scorn; the sisters shared in it. Could 
anybody in the whole world be more unhappy? 
She felt as if her heart was a lump of lead. Oh, 
for the convent — the dear, dear convent — but that 
refuge was closed to her — the dear nuns could not 
help her ; she was cast adrift. She had been well 
taught to find refuge in prayer. The beads, touching 
her finger tips, brought consolation to her, and she 
meditated on mystery after mystery in the silence 
of the little room which Mrs. Sherwood said was to 
be her sanctum.’^ 

At three o’clock Katharine had a glimpse of the 
city. She forgot her trials in the delight of this. 
The moving panorama of Chestnut Street charmed 
66 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


67 


her. She had no temptation to compare it with 
Broadway, or with State Street. It did not strike 
her as more narrow than those two famous thorough- 
fares. Her unrestrained pleasure in the beautiful 
street was not lost on Mrs. Sherwood, who was very 
proud of her native city. She walked slowly down 
the fashionable side of the street, and explained 
many things to Katharine, which that young lady 
did not understand. She did not care whether Mrs. 
Worth’s gowns came from Paris, or whether Mrs. 
So-and-so’s carriage was hired. 

Chestnut Street, in good weather, just before noon, 
or a little after noon, offers a beautiful spectacle. 
Its very narrowness gives an effect of concentration. 
In nearly every square was a flower vender or two, 
and Katharine could not express an exclamation of 
pleasure as the window of a famous florist, blazing 
with La France and Jacqueminot roses, met her 
view. 

Oh, really, you must not show so much feeling ; 
it’s not good form,” said Mrs. Sherwood, half 
alarmed, half amused. ^^Are you fond of flowers?” 

I ! ” cried Katharine, her eyes sparkling. 

There’s no reason why you shouldn’t have some, 
then,” answered Mrs. Sherwood, and they entered 
the shop. 

Katharine was entirely happy for a moment ; the 
flowers touched her sympathies as a fine poem, or a 
song, moves others. But Mrs. Sherwood brought 
her to her senses : — 


68 


A MAKKIAGE OF REASON. 


People will think you are from the country, if 
you stare that way : do cultivate repose.^^ 

Katharine blushed, and looked confused. The 
shopman filled her hands with La France roses, and 
Mrs. Sherwood carefully chose a bunch of carnations, 
as she understood that they were the fashionable 
flowers during the London season. 

Again they walked along the street. Where did 
all the people come from? Katharine wondered. 
Were they all happy? And how many were Catho- 
lics ? Some of them looked so good that she hoped 
they were Catholics. 

How pretty the young girls are ! And how well 
dressed ! she exclaimed. 

^^You must expect that in Philadelphia,’’ Mrs. 
Sherwood said ; our people — even those not in 
society — have the best taste in the country. New 
York is awful, and Baltimore — ” Mrs. Sherwood 
could not express her contempt for the provincialism 
of Baltimore; she only smiled as one who looks 
down from a great height on the pigmies beneath. 

Mrs. Sherwood sighed as she looked at Katha- 
rine’s face, made positively beautiful by interest and 
sympathy, and thought how delighted she might 
have been, if Katharine were only somebody,” 
instead of an unknown young girl out of a convent 
school. 

Katharine’s trials began when they reached the 
dressmaker’s. Two wretched hours were passed in 
talking and trying on various garments. 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


69 


You are very kiiid/^ she said to Mrs. Sherwood^ 
and I appreciate it. Of course I like fine clothes, but 
don^t you think we might buy them ready made?^’ 

A shiver ran through Mrs. Sherwood. She looked 
around cautiously, to see that nobody was looking, or 
listening : 

Never say such a thing again,^^ she whispered, 
never ! 

Katharine was surprised. M^hy shouldn’t she wear 
a readymade gown ? She began to think that the 
rules of the world were more numerous and harder to 
bear than the rules of the convent. 

The weary work was almost over when Katharine 
caused Mrs. Sherwood more anxiety. There was a 
young girl engaged in holding various wraps for 
ladies — a very gentle and patient young girl — who 
seemed ill and tired, for her delicate color changed 
easily, and once or twice she looked longingly towards 
a chair. She had spent the last hour in trying mantles 
on the shoulders of a stout old lady, who declined to 
be pleased. When Katharine had been measured, 
and twisted and turned by the dressmaker in waiting, 
it came Mrs. Sherwood’s turn, and then Katharine 
had nothing to do except watch the young girl. This 
young girl permitted all kinds of wraps to be thrown 
on her shoulders ; she walked up and down the floor 
and posed before various mirrors, and assumed 
various attitudes; but still the old lady was not 
pleased, and the young one seemed about to drop 
with exhaustion. Mrs. Sherwood — unluckily for 
6 


70 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


her, as she afterwards said — had gone to the other 
end of the room. 

Katharine watched the changes of color in the 
delicate face, as the girl put a new wrap, glittering 
with jet, on her shoulders. 

do not like the effect,’^ said the old lady, 
sharply ; either you are too listless to show things 
properly, or there’s nothing decent in the store.” 

Tears came to the eyes of the young girl. Katha- 
rine could stand this no longer. She arose from her 
chair and gently forced the young girl into it. 

I’ll wait on this lady, if you don’t mind ; you 
rest a while.” 

The wrap was thrown over Katharine’s shoulders, 
and she posed before the old lady, who was too much 
interested in herself to bother much about other peo- 
ple. The arrangement of jet looked very well on 
Katharine’s straight figure, and well set shoulders. 
When the scene dawned on Mrs. Sherwood, the old 
lady was looking at Katharine with an air of great 
satisfaction, and the overtasked girl, too tired to speak, 
was resting in the chair, with her eyes half closed. 

Mrs. Sherwood paused, appalled. She could not 
utter a word until she heard the old lady say — 

I am sure that will suit me — yes. I’ll take it ; 
it’s very stylish.” 

Mrs. Sherwood was about to shake the young 
woman in the chair very roughly, but Katharine 
interfered. 

Let her alone, please — I do just as well.” 


A MAERIAGE OF REASON. 


71 


Much better/^ said the old lady, turning away. 
And then, as the proprietress came up, she added : 

You ought to get somebody like this young lady to 
wait on your customers ; I have bought this wrap 
because she taught me how well it could look.’^ 

The proprietress looked angrily at the young girl 
in the chair, who seemed about to faint. 

She is ill,’^ said Katharine, hastily, now please 
do not scold her. She was obliged to let me help 
her — I insisted on it.^^ 

Jenny has been sick lately, said the proprie- 
tress, relenting ; I fancy I shall have to give her 
some rest.^’ 

The young girl opened her eyes and looked at 
Katharine gratefully. 

Mrs. Sherwood, with a cloud on her brow, said : — 

“ Come!'' 

When they had reached the street, she said, in a 
congealed voice, in which the sharpest icicles were 
apparent : 

“Are you in the habit of doing that sort of thing ? " 

“ What sort of thing ? " asked Katharine, ner- 
vously. 

“ Don't put on that air of innocence ! " whispered 
Mrs. Sherwood through her teeth. “ You know very 
well that you have been guilty of the greatest impro- 
priety." 

“ No, I don't," said Katharine, “ I only helped a 
poor girl in distress. I am sure the Blessed Virgin 
would have done the same thing, if—" 


72 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


Mrs. Sherwood groaned — what could be done with 
a girl who said such things. The idea of applying 
such a standard to modern society. She had always 
been against convent education, and here was a cor- 
roboration of her prejudices. 

I presume you consider that sufficient justifica- 
tion of your absurd conduct ? 

I certainly do ! ’’ Katharine replied, with spirit. 

If I had known it would be disagreeable to you, I 
would have hesitated, perhaps, and called the atten- 
tion of the proprietress to the illness of the young 
girl.” 

You should have minded your own business, — 
but we will not discuss this matter in the street. 
Besides, we must find a milliner, — but don’t show 
your low tastes again by changing places with the 
shop girls.” 

At that moment Katharine would have changed 
places with anybody. A half hour was passed at the 
milliner’s. When they were leaving, Katharine pro- 
tested against the expense her aunt had incurred. 

I don’t need so many things, aunt,” she said. I 
am not rich enough to have so many things to wear.” 

‘‘ I am the best judge of that^^ said her aunt coldly. 

My husband desires that you should make a suit- 
able appearance in society. That ought to be enough 
for you.” 

It is, of course,” said Katharine, but why must 
I have so many dresses of light colors ? One would 
be enough, and there are charities — ” 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


73 


One would not be enough, and no doubt your 
uncle will allow you something for charity. People 
have something to do, besides thinking of charities all 
the time. We are not so idle as nuns in a convent.’’ 

Idle ! ” said Katharine. Idle ! ” 

A cab drew up, at a signal from Mrs. Sherwood, 
and they were driven rapidly towards the railroad 
station. 

‘^Idle!” repeated Katharine to herself, with a 
little laugh, — ^Mf Mother Ursula could only hear 
that ! ” 

Mrs. Sherwood was silent all the way home. She 
was busily arranging a plan of campaign in her mind. 
Since it would be impossible to improve her social 
position with Katharine’s aid, she was determined to 
marry her as soon as possible. The idea of sending 
out girls into the world with such Quixotic ideas of 
life, — the idea ! What might she not do ! How 
could any modern man take a fancy to a girl brought 
up with opinions of the Middle Ages. It was hard 
enough to keep well in her own social set ; but what 
might not become of her, if Katharine should con- 
tinue to imitate Peter the Hermit or some other 
person admired in convents ? 

Yes, — she must be married ; but how to manage it? 

The carriage was waiting at the station. Once 
safely in it, Mrs. Sherwood resolved to sound Katha- 
rine on the subject of marriage. 

I presume all girls think of settling down 
some time,” she said, and after you have had 


74 


A MAEEIAGE OF EEASON. 


some experience in society you will want a home 
of your own.’^ 

I have not thought much about it/’ said Katha- 
rine. 

I mean of course that you will marry.^^ 

Oh, must I ! cried Katharine, in genuine alarm. 

‘‘ The girPs a fool,^^ murmured Mrs. Sherwood. 

Certainly, — iPs expected of every girl to marry 
well. You owe it to your uncle and to me.’^ 

^^But suppose I donT like anybody well enough — ” 

Nonsense,^^ said Mrs. Sherwood, ^^if a man’s 
rich and good-tempered, every good woman ought to 
like him.” 

But suppose he shouldn’t be a Catholic — ” began 
Katharine. 

Keligion has nothing to do with marriage, but 
reason has everything. — Like him ! indeed ! — I 
thought you are taught in convents to marry the 
person picked out for you by judicious friends.” 

^^We are supposed to exercise our will even in 
convents,” replied Katharine, with a flash of spirit. 

Mrs. Sherwood said no more ; she was disgusted. 
She dressed quickly for dinner, and took the oppor- 
tunity of telling her husband of her tribulations 
before Katharine entered. 

‘^Just like Katie!” he exclaimed, as his wife 
finished the tale of Katharine’s conduct at the dress- 
maker’s. It’s a relief to have such an unspoiled 
creature in the house ; I feel as if Katie were alive 
again ! ” 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


76 


His wife folded her hands in despair. What can 
one do with a man who talks that way ? she asked 
herself. 

When Katharine entered, looking subdued and a 
little paler than usual, Marcus Sherwood kissed her 
on the forehead. 

Why, my dear, you are exactly like your mother 
to-night.’’ 

As they went in to dinner, Mrs. Sherwood said to 
herself, — 

“ Nevertheless, she shall make a marriage of 
reason ! ” 


CHAPTER yill. 


Biddy Singen. 


ATHARINE’S life at this time was full of 



trouble. She often wondered whether St. 


Teresa’s maxim, Let nothing disturb you,” was 
intended for people in the world. Her great diffi- 
culty was that she was never sure whether she was 
doing right or wrong. What seemed right to her 
was sure to be wrong in Mrs. Sherwood’s eyes. And 
then she grew weary of the constant nagging” 
about her manner of speech. Mrs. Sherwood, like 
many other Americans who have had a glimpse of 
life in England, modelled herself and her belongings 
on what she fondly imagined was the best English 
plan ; she could tolerate social fibs by the dozen, 
but she looked on an Americanism ” on the tongue 
of others with horror. If it had not been for the 
refuges from outward tribulations with which the 
convent had supplied her, she would have been 
utterly disheartened by the sense that she was not 
only ignorant, but ill-bred — a sense which Mrs. 
Sherwood did all in her power to cultivate. But 
she had her devotions, and the dear old Rosary was 
the truest friend in need. 


76 


A MAERIAGE OF REASON. 


77 


Katharine admired the beautiful things around 
her ; she could see that it was delightful to be rich, 
but she felt, too, that it was more delightful to be 
free. Evening after evening, as she sat in the softly- 
lighted and flower-scented drawing-room, surrounded 
by a hundred luxurious marks of good taste and 
wealth, she longed earnestly for the simplicity of the 
convent. There, in spite of rules, she was free to be 
herself — to show the best that was in her. Her 
uncle was exceedingly kind, but Mrs. Sherwood pro- 
tested that she would not have Katharine petted and 
over-indulged, and she had little time to spend with 
him, because her aunt kept her busy with dress- 
makers, milliners, and a master of deportment, who 
came to teach her the method of Delsarte just before 
dinner when her uncle was at leisure. Mrs. Sher- 
wood resolved that her husband should not interfere 
with her plans, and, in her heart, she was just a little 
jealous of the love her husband had for his dead 
sister. Mr. Sherwood, too, was inclined, when left 
to himself, to fall back from the high social ideals 
his wife had laboriously built up for him ; he had 
absolutely no social perspective; he would shake 
hands with his own servant, and he had been known 
to take off his hat to the cook one day when he met 
her in the street. Mrs. Sherwood recalled this epi- 
sode with a shudder. What might not happen if he 
discovered that Katharine was capable of taking the 
place of a shop-girl and of acting as if people in a 
lower station of life were to be considered in the 


78 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


light of equals? Mrs. Sherwood, in that event, 
might be compelled to face a combination which 
might destroy the symmetry of her social arrange- 
ments. She had little hope of ever entering that 
sublime circle where the Percivals and others dwelt, 
happy, like Buddha on his golden lotos, and she had 
less hope since Katharine had come to be a burden 
on her hands. And yet there was a chance of the 
girl making a marriage of reason, and for this Mrs. 
Sherwood felt it her duty to struggle. In fact, she 
was as much a martyr to her social duties as many a 
poor woman is to those of her household. Her life 
was as laborious as that of many a washerwoman. 
The luncheon and the afternoon tea and the calls she 
made were as sacred to her as the Decalogue, and she 
worked like a slave in order to pay off the only social 
debts she recognized. When Katharine began to 
understand this, she was terrified. It seemed such a 
terrible waste of time ; and she recalled an old legend 
she had heard of the rich man invited to a great 
king’s feast, who, opening his arms which should 
have been filled with a splendid burden of gifts, dis- 
played only a few withered leaves. Her aunt’s 
anxiety to be ‘‘ in the swim ” reminded her of the 
rich man of the legend. To what end was all this 
thought, this weariness, this constant succession of 
gayety that had become no longer gayety because it 
was a matter of routine ? It made nobody happier 
— it meant envy and heartburning and heartless cal- 
culation. And life must mean all this to Katharine, 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


79 


if she did not strive with all her might to resist the 
influence her aunt was bringing to bear on her. The 
ease of the material part of life had its fascination for 
her ; but so artificial was the whole system by which 
her aunt lived and breathed, that Katharine, with 
her training, had no real difficulty in resistance. But, 
to make things worse in her estimation. Mother 
Ursula counselled submission in all those small social 
details in which no revolt of conscience was involved. 

Mrs. Sherwood believed that her lot was most un- 
happy. If Katharine was not positively ugly, she 
was without the distinction that comes from culture ; 
she had no pre-eminent accomplishments ; she spoke 
seldom, except when Mr. Sherwood made some of 
his inane jokes, borrowed, his wife insisted, from the 
humorous column of his favorite afternoon paper. 
Then her face brightened, and Mr. Sherwood showed 
almost childish pleasure in her appreciation. If the 
girl had only been striking in some way, she might, 
although she was a nobody in Philadelphia, have 
become the rage and helped her aunt to force her way 
into society. As it was, the best must be made of 
what Mrs. Sherwood had come to consider the worst. 
Mrs. Sherwood was compelled to admit that Katha- 
rine’s voice was lovely and that she spoke French 
well ; but everybody in decent society spoke French ; 
it had ceased to be a distinction. 

The epoch for which Mrs. Sherwood had prepared 
Katharine came at last. The day was like many 
other days in Mrs. Sherwood’s calendar, but it held 


80 


A MARRIAGE OP REASON. 


the festival which was to give occasion for all Phila- 
delphians who could induce the patronesses of a cer- 
tain exclusive charity to let them pay ten dollars for 
a card to drink tea, eat ices, listen to an orchestra, 
and look at a collection of flowers. But the initiated 
well understood that the ten dollars were not paid 
for charity or for the tea or the music or the flowers, 
but they were for the pleasure of being in the com- 
pany of a few hundred of those exalted creatures that 
form society. 

Mr. Sherwood was obliged to leave his office two 
hours earlier than usual and be ready to meet his wife 
and Katharine in the station at Philadelphia. Mrs. 
Sherwood’s dressmaker had undoubtedly done her 
best for Katharine, and the arrangement of white 
cloth and silver braid, with a hat loaded with peach 
blossoms, was probably the perfection of art, but at 
first Katharine did not appreciate it. Looking into 
her glass, she was startled, however, by the diflerence 
it made in her appearance. She blushed with 
pleasure, as she saw the reflection of the graceful 
lines and the soft combination of color in the mir- 
ror. Even the severe Mrs. Sherwood was pleased, 
and this gave Katharine a feeling of pleasure she 
had not had for many a day. When her uncle 
saw her at the station, his face lit up with genuine 
delight. 

You are more and more like Katie,” he said, I 
never thought you could be so pretty. Your mother 
was a beautiful woman, my dear.” 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


81 


Once in the carriage, warm in a white feather 
wrap, Katharine began to enjoy herself. After all, 
the world was not such a bad place — she began to 
gather up the remnants of confidence in herself, so 
rudely scattered by her aunt. She could not be so 
stupid as her aunt imagined; for Mother Ursula was 
as fine a gentlewoman as anybody in Mrs. Sherwood^s 
set — and Mother Ursula had spared no pains with 
her. Yes, she would have confidence ; for the sake 
of Our Lady of the Rosary, the dear old school, she 
would hold her own. 

Long strings of carriages stood in front of the large 
building on Broad Street, in which the supreme func- 
tion was to take place. Mrs. Sherwood sighed, as 
their carriage drew up to the curb, for there was Mrs. 
Percival just ahead of her, surrounded by a group of 
unapproachables. Oh ! if Katharine were only some- 
body, — somebody who would make these people stare 
and ask for introductions. If she was even like that 
bold-looking creature with the Wiltonstan^ who was 
really a nobody from Iowa, but who had written the 
most shocking book of the season. Mr. Sherwood 
might not like to appear in society with the author 
of Passionate Wailings,^’ — but Mrs. Sherwood said 
to herself that she could tolerate anything that would 
make her a personage. In spite of all her luxuries, 
Mrs. Sherwood, attired like Solomon, was most un- 
happy. It seems strange to the young that luxury 
and the command of money do not make happiness. 
It would seem almost impossible that any sane person 


82 


A MARKIAGE OF REASON. 


should look on the world in such an artificial light 
and suffer because certain people did not see fit to 
bow to her. But, nevertheless, the feeling of being 
outside the sacred circle made poor Mrs. Sherwood 
really unhappy. Her husband was pleased with 
Katharine^s evident enjoyment. The music, the air 
of brightness, above all, the flowers placed in great 
masses around the room delighted her. Shp had 
never seen such roses, and rhododendrons, and pan- 
sies. The roses — especially magnificent specimens of 
La France, whose soft pink was' exquisite — were 
marvels to her. 

The hall had begun to be crowded. Mrs. Sher- 
wood spoke to many people, but unhappily they were 
not of the set in which she longed to mingle. She 
kept her eyes aloof from many more — generally crea- 
tures who had helped her at charity fairs or some- 
thing of the kind — and who had no other claim to 
recognition. A zither concert was in progress as they 
reached the part of the room reserved for the roses. 
And Katharine could not tell which pleased her more 
— those lovely La France buds or the music, which 
was new to her. If Mother Ursula could only have 
some of those exquisite pink roses for the altar ! The 
two players on the zither had just finished an old- 
fashioned Tyrolean air and began the Schweitzer’s 
^^Heimweh,” and as the sympathetic notes were 
drawn out under skilful fingers, Katharine’s eyes 
filled with tears. Mrs. Sherwood looked at her with 
ill-concealed irritation. Would that girl never know 


A MAEEIAGE OF EEASON. 


83 


that it was bad form ” to show one’s feelings in 
public? The Worths passed with bows and an in- 
quiring look at Katharine. Mrs. Sherwood did not 
present Katharine to them — she was ashamed of her, 
and then O’Conor was such a vulgar name. 

A few minutes afterwards Mrs. Sherwood was 
shocked by the sight of Katharine pursuing the 
Worths, mother and daughter, across the floor. 

Stop,” she cried, stop — what on earth does that 
idiot mean, Marcus ? ” she said, turning to her hus- 
band. Katharine returned hastily, all blushes, to the 
care of her indignant chaperon. 

I thought the girl with those people was Biddy,” 
she said, apologetically. Mr. Sherwood could not 
help smiling at his wife’s evident discomfiture. 

She thought the girl with those people was 
Biddy,” repeated Mrs. Sherwood, in bitter accents. 

Oh ! let us go home — she’ll certainly disgrace 
us!” 

But I really thought it was Biddy — Biddy Sin- 
gen, you know,” said Katharine, feebly. 

And so it was — and so it is,” said a clear, rich 
voice at her elbow. I am so glad you are as much 
like your last photograph as I am like mine. Yes, 
I’m Biddy, and you’re Kitty O’Conor ! ” 

Mrs. Sherwood turned. Here was a tall, fresh- 
colored girl, in a dark gown, kissing Katharine. 
Not far off were the Worths, Mr. and Mrs. Percival, 
with their nephew, and Ferdinand Carey. 

Why, there’s our girl,” said Wirt. 


84 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


Your girly^ echoed Mr. Percival ; she’s our 
girl — and how sweet she looks ! ” 

Don’t speak to her — she’s with that horrid Mrs. 
Sherwood,” whispered his wife. 

I will ; I’m sure I may speak to anybody that 
the ineffable Lady Alicia St. John favors with so 
many kisses. Why, even you are dying to know 
the Lady Alicia.” 

Mr. Percival pressed forward, and shook hands 
warmly with Katharine, and his wife had to follow 
his example. She was hoping that she might avoid 
an introduction to the Sherwoods, when Katharine 
said : 

No doubt you know my aunt and uncle, Mrs. 
Percival — aunt, this is Biddy Singen ! ” 

The Lady Alicia Bridget St. John,” said Mrs. 
Worth, primly. 

No, only Biddy to Katharine O’Conor,” said the 
Lady Alicia. I had no idea you Americans were 
so fond of titles.” Wirt and Ferdinand Percival 
pressed forward, to be presented to that girl ; ” and 
at once Mrs. Sherwood, by a sudden turn of the 
wheel, found her dreams realized. She was on view 
— on public view — as the centre of the best people ” 
in the best set in Philadelphia ; but Katharine had 
eyes only for Biddy ! 


CHAPTEE IX. 


The Triumph of Katharine. 

ES. SHEEWOOD was for ten minutes 



1 A. almost a happy woman. In an instant — 
by this sudden turn of fortune’s wheel, as it were — 
the things she had most hoped for had come to pass. 
But, like all people who put their whole trust in 
such unreal things as wealth and fashion, she began 
to find the apples she had longed for dust and ashes. 
It was not to her that the attentions of the Percivals 
and their train were directed ; it was to her husband’s 
niece, the simple and inexperienced convent girl. 
What did it mean? Was the world going mad? 
With Mr. Percival, the husband of the most exclu- 
sive woman in town, beaming at Katharine and act- 
ing as if he had found a long-lost daughter — with 
Wirt Percival and Ferdinand Carey hanging on her 
words, and the Lady Alicia St. John fluttering about 
her like a delighted butterfly, it did, indeed, seem to 
Mrs. Sherwood that Katharine was getting much 
more than she deserved. She could not understand 
why so much attention should be shown to a mere, 
unformed young woman out of a convent, and she 
felt a certain bitterness over it which was akin to 


7 


86 


86 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


envy. She remembered, too, the scorn she had ex- 
pressed at the name of Biddy Singen,^’ and was 
furious at the thought of it. Why had Katharine 
permitted her to remain in such error? She could 
not understand Katharine’s simplicity ; she set her 
silence on that occasion down to a deliberate inten- 
tion to be impertinent. There was no doubt about 
the completeness of Katharine’s social success, how- 
ever. Fashionable people go in droves, and the 
group around her was soon surrounded by other 
groups, all desirous of knowing a person to whom 
all the elect were paying so much attention. 

Now, if Mother Ursula were present, would have 
been the time when she would have been most solici- 
tous for her pupil. She believed that Katharine’s 
devotion would be augmented by adversity ; but that 
the greatest danger to her would arise from pros- 
perity or that luxury which produces artificial views 
of life and destroys all natural feeling and all real 
fervor. 

To tell the truth, Katharine was pleased with the 
evident intention of everybody to be kind to her. She 
was not by any means overwhelmed by it, because 
she had not acquired Mrs. Sherwood’s point of view, 
or Mrs. Percival’s estimate of the value of social 
position. Lady Alicia St. John was simply her rela- 
tive, Biddy Singen,” whom she had at last met in 
the flesh. The sisters had kept her simple and honest, 
and free from all snobbishness. She liked Mr. and 
Mrs. Percival, who had been kind to her during her 


A MABRIAGE OF REASON. 


87 


lonely journey on the train, and she was glad to show 
it. She was not specially interested in the young 
men ; but as they appeared to be friends both of the 
Percivals and of her own Biddy, she was pleased 
to see them. 

Mrs. Percival was both delighted and displeased. 
Katharine had taken a certain place in her imagina- 
tion ever since the scene of the baptism in the train. 
Besides, her conscience had troubled her somewhat. 
In spite of her callousness and the unreal state of 
feeling which an artificial point of view had induced, 
she desired, above all things, that her husband should 
* become a Catholic. She loved him very truly, not- 
withstanding a habit of quarrelling with him over 
all sorts of trifles. She knew that he was restless 
and unhappy about religious matters ; she knew, too, 
that her domestic life would be more serene, if he 
and she were united in religion, and she had an un- 
easy feeling that her worldliness had something to 
do with keeping him out of the Church ; but it was 
only an uneasy feeling, not a conviction. She had 
deliberately placed beyond his reach the only Catholic 
of their acquaintance to whom he had shown a lik- 
ing. She had been much struck by a phrase in one of 
the Archbishop’s sermons preached at the Cathedral 
on the Sunday after she had met Katharine. He 
had said very strongly and gracefully — in a manner 
that gave the words a deeper meaning than they 
could possibly have in print — that example was 
more forcible than precept, that a life taught better 


88 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


than mere words, and Mrs. Percival impressed as 
she had been by Katharine’s faith, purity and sin- 
cerity, had asked herself whether she had done right 
to deprive her husband of the example of such quali- 
ties, springing directly, as they did in Katharine’s 
case, from the influence of the Church. She hated 
to gratify that climbing Mrs. Sherwood ” by ex- 
tending her hands to her so that she could mount the 
inmost inclosure of fashion, but she resolved to do 
it, as she could not help, with as good a grace as 
possible. 

She determined, however, that Wirt should not 
take a fancy to Katharine. He must marry the 
Lady Alice, — he was already so English, that an 
English-Irish wife would be quite appropriate; 
therefore she was a little taken aback when she 
heard a bit of talk between Katharine and the young 
woman from Dublin. 

^^Oh, Biddy,” she heard Katharine say, ^^how 
lovely it is to meet you — and to think of our know- 
ing each other by our photographs — wasn’t it won- 
derful ! You must stay here always ! You’ll have 
to marry an American and live near us, won’t she, 
Uncle Marcus ? ” 

Uncle Marcus, dumb in the presence of the aris- 
tocracy, smiled. 

Oh ! no,” said Biddy, in a rather high-pitched 
voice, but in the charming Dublin accent, we never 
marry American men on the other side ; we do not 
like them, though some of our men marry American 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


89 


girls — when they are rich. One likes American men 
as friends, don^t you know, but marriage is a dif- 
ferent thing. 

The frankness of this announcement brought a 
flush to Wirt PercivaFs face, for he was not alto- 
gether averse to his aunFs plans. He had thought 
of late how well it would sound to be announced in 
Philadelphia at smart functions as — 

Mr. Wirt Percival and the Lady Alicia Perci- 
val.’^ 

Why, the girFs a beggar,^^ muttered Mr. Perci- 
val to Mr. Sherwood, fancy — 

Biddy smiled, with perfect self-possession and 
made a courtesy in the old fashion to the murmurer. 

^^Not quite Monseigneur, — not quite. When I 
am,’^ she added, with a mischievous laugh, I may 
be reduced to take an American husband ! 

Mrs. Worth, a pale woman, with bleached hair 
and a single eyeglass, pulled her guest by the sleeve. 

Oh, my dear Lady Alice,^^ she said, you really 
mustn’t joke in that fashion.^’ 

Sure I’m not joking,” said Biddy, a girl may 
express her opinion in a free country, I hope.” 

She put her arm in Katharine’s and walked to- 
wards a great stand of lilies. The music had just 
ceased to play the Polonaise in Mignon ; the Worths, 
the Percivals, and the Sherwoods — celestial combi- 
nation in Mrs. Sherwood’s mind ! — gathered about 
the orchids. Mr. Percival scowled in the direction 
of the young woman, and Wirt looked disgusted. 


90 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


^^Did you ever hear such an insolent speech? 
Why, the girl’s a beggar,” said the elder man. 

Every acre of the estate of her father. Lord Boling- 
broke, was mortgaged before he died, and now that 
the Land League runs everything in Ireland, I don’t 
believe she has a hundred pounds a year. I like her 
impertinence ! ” 

^^She is honest, at least,” said Wirt. We have 
to stand a little impertinence from people who feel 
their misfortune — ” 

^^And whom you toady to,” said Mr. Percival. 

Positively, it makes me sick. What’s a title to 
you ? If you want to marry a nice girl, why not 
propose to that Miss O’Conor. And if you must 
have a title, you can buy one, and be as great a 
grandee as that American-Italian Marquis Biddle- 
Pope, who lives not far from you. Give me Duluth 
and the West; after all, they’re really more Ameri- 
can out there.” 

Miss O’Connor’s nice, uncle. I admit all that 
— she walks like an English girl ; but she wouldn’t 
marry me — she is a Catholic.” 

Mr. Percival was silent. 

“ Ah, well,” he said, with a sigh, perhaps she is 
right — I don’t think my wife has been altogether 
happy — but that’s neither here nor there. I’ve taken 
a great fancy to her. You’re rich; she’ll not be 
poor as Marcus Sherwood’s niece. My dear boy, 
she’s the rage, — the new ^ fad,’ — the beauty of the 
season ; — everybody’s looking at her and that cheeky 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


91 


Irish girl. You couldn^t do better. It will be a 
perfect marriage of reason. Besides, neither you nor 
Ferdinand believe in anything, and you could easily 
adapt yourself to anybody else’s convictions. Oh ! 
I am tired of all this,^’ the elder man said, bitterly, 
here are you, who stand as a son to me, frittering 
away your life in a silly attempt to be what you are 
not. What do the French call it — fin de — 
without convictions, — without heart f 

Wirt said nothing. He contrasted the Lady Alice 
with Katharine, as they stood amid the lilies, and 
thought that perhaps, after all, it would be pleas- 
anter to marry a lovely girl like Katharine, who 
couldn’t say sharp things, than an aristocratic one 
like her relative, who could and would. 

Biddy looked into Katharine’s face. 

How much sweeter you are than your picture. 
Oh, Kitty,” she said, how happy you must be — 
though I can’t understand how anybody can really 
be happy in America.” 

Happy?” said Katharine. don’t think I am. 
I was almost happy in the convent ; but here,” she 
paused, doubtfully, and then fearing that her friend 
might think she was ungrateful for the meeting, she 
added, ‘H’m sure I ought to be happy to-day, 
because I have met you.” 

“ I am sure I shall like you, Kitty, and I want 
you to like me. I shall be here in Philadelphia for 
a month or so with the Worths, — one of the 
daughters married a French cousin of mine, and 


92 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


when they came to Dublin they asked me over here. 
I can’t say I like it, you know, but when a girl’s 
poor, she must do the best she can.” 

Katharine opened her eyes at the sigh with which 
this was uttered. She did not know what to say. 
She touched the stem of an exquisite cal la lily and 
watched it vibrate. 

Now, you’re rich — I can see that,” Lady Alicia 
said, looking at her dress ; that gown must have 
come from Kate Reilly, or Worth, or somebody. 
It’s quite perfect.” 

don’t know much about dress,” Katharine 
said; ^^in fact, the world isn’t as interesting as I 
thought it would be. Nobody is serious — nobody 
thinks of the next world : everybody is so intensely 
occupied with trifling things, — dinner-parties, and 
engagements, and marriages.” 

The Irish girl laughed. 

“ Lady Alicia ! ” began Katharine, somewhat 
offended. 

Oh, call me ^ Biddy,’ as you always did in your 
letters, — I’m tired of being Lady Aliciaed ! How 
you Americans love to roll a title in your mouths ! 
I can’t help laughing when I hear you talk of mar- 
riage as a trifling thing. Why, it’s the object of my 
life ! And the worst of it is, I’ve got to marry here, 
because I can’t marry on the other side. If a girl 
doesn’t marry, what is she to do ? ” 

Katharine looked at her friend in amazement. 

She may do a great deal of good — ” 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


93 


And be an old maid/’ said Biddy, scornfully. 

“ She may go into a convent — ” 

That’s out of the question, if she has no voca- 
tion. Oh ! really, Kitty, I must marry. One can’t 
marry in Ireland, unless one has money. Now I 
have scarcely any, though I suppose some trades- 
man would take me for the sake of the title, — but 
that’s not to be thought of. Now I rather like your 
men; they are not so well educated as ours, and 
some of them are rather queer, but I’m told they’re 
all very rich.” 

Biddy raised her large blue eyes to Katharine’s 
with an expression of shrewdness in them which for 
a moment repelled the girl from the convent. 

Mother Ursula sometimes talked to us about 
marriage, but not in that way. She said that it was 
a vocation, — a very sacred thing — ” 

Oh ! I’ve heard all that,” said Biddy, im- 
patiently ; but I’m a poor girl, and as no Irishman 
of my class can afford to marry me without money, 
I’ve got to catch somebody here.” 

But you’ll have to marry a Catholic.” 

I can’t,” said Biddy, smiling and showing a row 
of brilliant teeth in a way that made Katharine for- 
get the shrewd glance of the moment before. 
can’t marry one, unless he appears. All the rich 
men I’ve met don’t seem to have any religion, and I 
suppose I’ll have to make the best of it. They give 
dispensations in this country for mixed marriages, 
don’t they ? ” 


94 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


But the Church is against them. Oh ! Biddy 
— oh, Lady Alicia, don’t ! ” 

^^You remind me of Punches advice to people 
about to marry — Punch said ^ Don’t.’ No, Katha- 
rine, I must do the best I can ; it’s only a rich girl 
that can afford to marry as she pleases nowadays, — 
or a very poor one without any social position.” 

Katharine was shocked ; she did not speak. In 
vain the music rose and fell, in vain men and women 
passed her and her friend, envying the position of 
one girl and the beauty of the other. Her hand 
stole into the pocket of the silver-trimmed jacket she 
wore and touched her dear beads. After all, in doubt 
there is no consolation like a Hail Mary. 

Wirt Percival’s voice sounded behind them. 

Oh ! Mr. Percival,” Lady Alicia said, if you’re 
going to drive me out on your brake to-morrow, you 
must include Miss O’ Conor and Mrs. Sherwood — 
that’s your aunt’s name, isn’t it, Kitty ? ” 

Certainly,” said Wirt Percival, with a pleased 
smile. He brought tea to both the young women ; 
and, when Biddy had gone for a walk with Ferdi- 
nand Carey, he devoted himself to Katharine. 

‘^Good!” whispered Mr. Percival in his ear, as 
he passed, just as Katharine had joined her aunt. 

She is lovely ! ” returned Wirt, in a whisper ; 
and I think she is interested in me. She asked me 
if I believed in Christianity ? ” 

And Katharine had asked the question out of zeal 
for her friend’s future ! 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


95 


And what did you say?^^ 

I said that I had not considered the matter. Do 
you know, uncle, I think I’ll propose, if the Lady 
Alicia rejects me ! ” 

After dinner that night, Mr. Percival repeated 
this dialogue to his wife. 

“ Poor girl ! ” Mrs. Percival said, I suppose 
those odious Sherwoods will force her into a mixed 
marriage for the sake of the advantage of marrying 
into our set. But I don’t approve of mixed mar- 
riages myself, though we’ve always got on well.” 

“ But you’ve never been altogether happy,” said 
Mr. Percival, “ and I know it.” 

Mrs. Percival did not answer ; and her husband 
took up his newspaper, echoing her sigh. 


CHAPTER X. 


Mrs. Sherwood’s First Battle. 

T he number of invitations that followed 
Katharine’s success at the flower show 
somewhat smoothed Mrs. Sherwood’s irritation at 
the supremacy which the girl had suddenly assumed, 
in spite of herself. There could be no doubt of it — 
the Sherwoods were at last in the swim of society.” 
There was every hope that they would receive an 
invitation to that most sublime of all functions in 
social Philadelphia — the Assembly. 

Mr. Sherwood was proud of Katharine’s success, 
but at the same time anxious and puzzled about it. 
He was pleased because it reversed the positions of 
his wife and Katharine and made the former respect 
the latter as a social dependent. This pleased him 
because he had a secret fear that Mrs. Sherwood 
would force Katharine into an unhappy marriage or 
drive her to unhappiness by artificial ways of thought 
and action. 

Katharine tried to be content, but she was not. 
The round of dinners and luncheons and dances in 
prospect were not so interesting to contemplate as 
she had imagined — for there seemed to be no end to 
96 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


97 


them. Like all young girls Katharine loved gayety 
and amusement ; she liked dance music and flowers 
and perfumes. The Lanciers and the Quadrilles of 
the school days, which made the convent recreation- 
room ring, were dear to her. There was real fun in 
them. But all the pleasure was taken out of the 
prospect of her first dance in the new world by the 
discussions that preceded it. 

Mr. Sherwood was generous, and Mrs. Sherwood 
flew from one dress-maker to another in a storm of 
delight. There was something to work for now — 
she could display her new gowns before real peo- 
ple,^^ not to make-believes.^^ If the Homans when 
they spoke of men meant no men but Romans, so 
our women, who make society the limit of their lives, 
acknowledge the existence of no human beings worth 
meeting on equal terms outside of society. Mrs. 
Sherwood felt that she was now in her own world — 
all other worlds were as nothing to her. She had 
already begun to plan a great dinner and dance in 
honor of Katharine and the aristocrat from Dublin. 
And yet she had her doubts and fears. It was her 
private opinion that Katharine would prove a failure 
yet. In the first place, she suddenly found that 
Katharine was self-willed. Mother Ursula had writ- 
ten this advice to Katharine — 

‘^Social ideas have changed since my time, my 
dear — you will, of course, follow the advice of 
your confessor about dancing ; but there is one 
fashion which I hope you will never adopt — that of 


98 


A MAKRIAGE OP REASON. 


the low-cut corsages which have been always usual in 
what is called ^ good society / 

And so when the ineffable dress-maker, the perfect 
Kate Reilly, whom Lady Alicia had spoken of to all 
the quiet Philadelphians, sent home for the first din- 
ner and dance at the Worths’ a gown of old rose-color 
and silver for Katharine, Mrs. Sherwood had, as she 
said, to endure a scene.” 

Katharine tried it on. 

Perfect,” Mrs. Sherwood said. 

But,” said Katharine, looking at her shoulders 
where knots of peach blossoms did duty for sleeves, 
it is not all here.” 

Mrs. Sherwood impatiently raised her eyeglass, 
mounted on a long ebony stick which she had just 
acquired, and asked — 

^^What do you mean?” 

It’s not all here, aunt ; there must be a j^chu or 
something for my neck.” 

^^They always go through this ^act’ when they 
come out of convents,” murmured Mrs. Sherwood ; 
then she said aloud, with irritation — “ What is the 
use of assuming these airs with me? You’ve been 
reading some silly nonsense — some Catholic story, 
like that ^Loretto; or, the Choice,’ that I picked 
up in your room the other day. You must drop 
religious pretences with me — I am a woman of the 
world.” 

And I am not, aunt,” said Katharine, with an 
air of timidity — Mother Ursula had often told her 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


99 


to look out for her temper, and her present meekness 
was the result of hard restraint. 

Well, you must begin to be by conforming to 
the ideas of society. You look lovely in that gown ; 
it suits you. And Uncle Marcus has promised to 
give you a pearl necklace.^^ 

I can’t wear this dress,” said Katharine, firmly. 

Why, it is indecent — I have no corsage at all, except 
this row of peach blossoms and the ribbons ! ” 

You shall wear it,” said Mrs. Sherwood ; it 
cost your uncle one hundred and fifty dollars ; it is a 
creation.” 

Katharine’s eyes opened. 

Surely my uncle is not so — so kind as to spend 
so much money as that for a dress for me ? ” cried 
Katharine, in genuine distress ; oh, aunt, after this 
I will make my own clothes ! ” 

Mrs. Sherwood put her hands to her forehead in 
despair. She could find no words to fit her emotions. 
Where would the girl end ? At this moment a knock 
came at the door, and Lady Alicia entered, with great 
coolness. 

I just walked upstairs,” she said, as I found 
nobody below.” 

Mrs. Sherwood arose and felt like thanking her 
for her condescension. The Dublin girl was not a 
beauty, but she had a fresh complexion and a cheerful 
face. Her walking-dress was of coarse cloth and she 
wore the largest and coarsest shoes Mrs. Sherwood had 
ever seen. She wore a green veil and heavy gloves. 


100 


A MAEEIAGE OF EEASON. 


IVe been out for a walk/’ she said ; ten miles 
before breakfast. And I thought I’d run over here 
for luncheon — I like your railway cars.” 

Mrs. Sherwood, though she hated to walk, made a 
vow to acquire coarse shoes at once and to talk to her 
acquaintances about doing ten miles before breakfast ; 
it would be so English. 

I’m glad you’ve come. Lady Alicia.” 

^^Oh, call me ^ Biddy,’ — nobody at home Lady 
Alicia’s me,” she said, taking dfP her hat uncere- 
moniously; ^^I’m sick of hearing it over here — 
there’s one fool who visits Mrs. Worth and calls me 
^ my lady ! ’ ” 

Mrs. Sherwood laughed a hollow laugh; she 
wondered what was the use of having one of the 
aristocracy with one, if one was not to use a title on 
all occasions. How could she speak to this exalted 
creature as Biddy ! ” 

I’m awfully hungry,” said Biddy, taking a rock- 
ing chair and then hopping out of it. How I hate 
your American chairs — I can’t see how any sane 
being can want to rock backwards and forwards.” 

Mrs. Sherwood made a resolution never to sit in a 
rocking-chair again, though she loved the gentle 
exercise. 

^^And don’t forget,” continued Biddy, ^^to have 
some Dublin stout for luncheon. We never get any 
at the Worths’. But it’s just too lovely — it’s not so 
nice over here, because of the sea voyage — but it’s a 
symphony, all the same ! ” 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


101 


Mrs. Sherwood was horrified. 

You don^t actually drink porter at luncheon — 
she began. 

course we do. I hate American slops, — 
soda water and stuff— ugh ! ’’ And Biddy made 
a grimace; Mrs. Sherwood’s horror amused her. 

You know you told me to make myself at home, 
and I’ve done it, you see. Oh, what a lovely gown. 
Kit ! It’s the smartest thing I’ve seen ! ” 

But look at the shoulders — I can’t wear it, — I 
really can’t. There’s no fichu, or lace, or anything 
with it, Biddy. Don’t you see ? ” said Katharine, 
earnestly. 

^^I see that it’s perfect. Kate Reilly has sur- 
passed herself,” said Lady Alicia, emphatically. 

Katharine could not believe the testimony of her 
ears. 

^‘And you a Catholic, too ! ” she exclaimed. I 
can’t understand what you mean. Don’t you see the 
body is too low ? ” 

Nonsense!” answered her friend. ^^Why, all 
the Catholics at the Castle wear gowns just as low — 
and I’m told there’s no difference at the Lord 
Mayor’s, but of course I’ve never been there — our 
set doesn’t go. But the Lord Lieutenant’s balls set 
the fashion in Dublin. Really, when I was pre- 
sented, there was only one high gown ; it was worn 
by special permission of the Queen.” 

A delightful glow permeated Mrs. Sherwood’s 
frame; she was actually on familiar terms with a 
8 


102 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


young woman who had been presented at court. 
Who knows? Might not she, by persistent effort, 
rise to that beatific condition ? Other Americans had 
done so. She turned quickly to Katharine. 

You must wear that gown, child. You needn’t 
be ashamed of your neck and shoulders.” 

Of course. Kit ! ” said her friend. Everybody 
wears low gowns. Don’t be a prude — the men will 
avoid you. Convent notions don’t go in the world ! ” 
Katharine bit her lip ; she looked in the glass and 
her eyes flashed. 

Convent notions are modest notions, and you 
know it very well,” she said, softly. The Lady 
Alicia pretended to adjust the tulle flounce, and, as 
she rose, whispered — 

Don’t be a fool. Kit — your aunt is rich — do you 
want to offend her ? ” She was not prepared for 
Katharine’s answer, made in her usual voice — 

I would rather offend her than offend God ! ” 

Oh,” said Mrs. Sherwood, sarcastically, if 
God is to be dragged into everything — if you 
are always thinking about Him, you can’t live in 
society — ” 

She paused and reddened ; Biddy was inclined to 
laugh at the trap into which Mrs. Sherwood, who 
prided herself on being respectably religious, had 
fallen. 

I will not live in society then !” said Katharine, 
throwing a shawl over her shoulders and preparing 
to leave the room. 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


103 


Mrs. Sherwood put her hand on the door and con- 
fronted her. 

You shock me/^ she said. Is this the manner 
you were taught by the nuns ? 

I will not wear that dress — I don’t care what 
Biddy says ! ” exclaimed Katharine, her eyes flash- 
ing. Mrs. Sherwood imperiously measured her with 
her eyes. Katharine met the stare undauntedly. 
Mrs. Sherwood made a rapid calculation. To drive 
Katharine out of the house would be to drop out of 
the society she had just entered — it would be to 
oflend Lady Alicia and Mr. Sherwood — to crush all 
hope of a brilliant social future ; — still she was not a 
woman to give in easily. 

I will speak to your uncle ! ” 

If my uncle wants me to go out in this dress — 
if he wants his sister’s child to wear — ” Katharine’s 
voice trembled ; and then gained firmness, he is 
not like — himself. Besides, I am determined not to 
let him pay so much money for me ; I cannot let 
him be so extravagant ; I will not be dependent on 
him for such luxuries ! ” 

Mrs. Sherwood was aghast at the thought of any- 
body objecting to have good clothes, no matter how 
they came. She saw that the contest was unequal ; 
she determined to gain time. 

Go — change your dress, my dear,” she said ; 
we will talk of the matter later.” 

But I will not wear it — as it is,” Katharine said, 
as she left the room. 


104 


A MAERIAGE OF REASON. 


Biddy ran after her. How can you be so silly ? ” 
she said. Do what everybody does. Suppose your 
aunt should want you to leave the house, what would 
you do ? 

Go/’ said Katharine, with a half smile at the 
prospect of freedom. 

^^And what would you do?” asked the Lady 
Alicia, horrified. 

Earn my own living — the Sisters taught me ! ” 

Horrible ! ” cried Lady Alicia, horrible ! To 
leave this house and be a governess or something. 
You’d lose caste and everything. People would cut 
you ! I had no idea that you were so foolish, from 
your letters.” 

You can ^cut’ me, if you don’t like me,” look- 
ing into her friend’s eyes with a candor that disarmed 
her. 

‘^But I do like you,” said Biddy, kissing her. 

We have never had a long talk yet. American 
girls are so queer and independent ! Hurry ! — 
change your dress, and we’ll have a bit of luncheon !” 

Mrs. Sherwood had waited patiently, while this 
dialogue went on in the passage. She occupied 
herself with worrying about the luncheon. If reed 
birds were only in season ! — if she had known, she 
could have sent in to Augustin’s for some of those 
delicious oyster croquettes ! — she would go down to 
see the cook at once; she hoped the gardener had 
some roses — if she had only known that the Lady 
Alicia St. John was coming ! 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


105 


“ Perhaps there is something that you would like 
for luncheon?’’ she asked, with touching timidity, 
as her guest re-entered the room. Suppose she should 
demand truffled partridge or frogs’ legs ! She waited 
for a full minute. 

Only a bit of cold mutton and a bottle of Guin- 
ness’ — that’s all I generally take on the other side,” 
drawled Lady Alicia. Lady Barstreet, who brought 
me across on her way to Montreal — I had to have a 
chaperon, you know — said that your American mut- 
ton is bad — is it ? ” 

Mrs. Sherwood at once began to apologize for 
American mutton — of course it must be bad ; it was 
not English ; but American oysters were the best in 
the world; the Lady Alicia should have some at 
luncheon ; and she hurried away. 

When Katharine came back, she found Biddy 
standing near the window, looking out on the lawn ; 
she had lost something of her look of cheerful im- 
pudence. And Katharine fancied that she brushed 
her handkerchief hastily across her eyes. She said 
nothing, but the Dublin girl caught her look of 
sympathy. 

Oh ! Kitty,” she said, I wish there were no 
such thing as money in the world. Here am I — 
awfully poor ! — living among luxuries which seem 
to be part of my life and which I can only keep by 
sacrificing my conscience. Your struggle about the 
gown is a lesson to me — but it makes me sad. I 
was never taught to follow principle in little things ; 


106 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


for with US on the other side whatever is permitted 
at court is all right — and I think we Irish are even 
worse than the English in that way. I think myself 
our gowns are sometimes a trifle too low; but in 
society people think it evil-minded to say so. You 
see a girl that must marry must follow the rules of 
society.’^ 

^^Why must you marry?’’ asked Katharine, in 
amazement. 

To live,” said the Lady Alicia, in equal amaze- 
ment; ^4f the troubles between the landlords and 
tenants in Ireland keep up, my income will soon 
be — nothing.” 

I’d rather work — a thousand times ! ” 

It seems to me you Catholics hold very revolu- 
tionary doctrines in America,” said Biddy, her old 
smile breaking out at the sight of Katharine’s 
shining eyes and flushed cheeks. Would the Sisters 
approve of your throwing over a rich man merely be- 
cause he is a Protestant or nothing at all in religion ?” 

“Of course,” said Katharine, taking the Lady 
Alicia’s hand, “ you, a great lady, ought to be able 
to do things easily which a poor little girl like me 
finds it very hard to do.” 

Lady Alicia smiled wistfully. 

“ There is one thing I will do to please you, — I’ll 
wear a high gown at the Worths’ on Friday night, to 
keep you in countenance.” 

“And you’ll set the fashion ! ” cried Katharine, 
kissing her. 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


107 


It seems like a trifle/’ said Lady Alicia, thought- 
fully, but even in trifles we Catholics should set a 
good example. I’ll tell you this,” she added, archly, 
I don’t envy the place of Mrs. Sherwood as your 
chaperon. Whenever you two have a row, call me 
in. It’s better than a play — Good gracious ! What’s 
that ? ” 

The gong for luncheon ! ” 

What a fuss ! ” said Biddy. Why don’t she 
fire off a cannon at once ? ” 

Mr. Sherwood, by chance, was home to luncheon. 
After the meal, served with roses, pink ices, and pink 
trimmings of all kinds in five courses, Mrs. Sher- 
wood offered to drive Lady Alicia to the train. Mr. 
Sherwood asked Katharine if she could sing, and she 
said a little.” 

And will you ? ” 

Oh ! yes, — with pleasure,” she answered ; and 
then, anxious to speak before her aunt came home, 
she said — Uncle Marcus, you must not spend so 
much money for my things.” 

Why, child,” he said, in surprise, I haven’t.” 
“ Oh, yes, you have — my aunt has bought the 
loveliest dresses and bonnets ; and, though I want to 
be nicely dressed, yet I am too poor to wear such 
fine clothes.” 

“ How like her mother ! ” Uncle Marcus said, 
smiling, to himself. You must learn to take grace- 
fully — that’s an art in itself. I want you to dress 
as my niece ought to dress — I’m a rich man, dear, as 


108 


A MARKIAGE OF REASON. 


things go. And you can do what you will in 
return/^ he said, kindly. Give me what you think 
most — and I don’t need money. By the way, you 
must have an allowance for charities and things ot 
that kind. What will you do for me ? ” 

I’ll say the Rosary for you every day ! ” she 
said, with enthusiasm. 

Thank you,” he said, with a smile, but, as I 
don’t know what that is, suppose you give me a 
song ! ” 

They went into a little ante-room, decorated in 
white, with a heavy frieze of pink and silver roses, 
and Katharine sat down at the piano. 

^^How well she suits all this prettiness,” thought 
her uncle. A child is very pleasant in the house.” 

Katharine sang Mary of Argyle ” in a low voice. 

‘^Your mother’s song, dear,” her uncle said. 

Give me another of those old-fashioned songs — one 
never hears them since the war. When Mrs. Sher- 
wood entered Katharine was just finishing Listen 
to the Mocking Bird,” arranged for the voice and 
piano ; she sang it very softly, and her uncle was 
delighted. 

‘^That was written for Harriet Lane, in Buchanan’s 
time, wasn’t it ? ” asked Mr. Sherwood, turning to 
his wife. 

How should I remember, Marcus ? ” she asked, 
with a look of resentment. Katharine, can’t you 
sing the Ricci Waltz? — or something less old- 
fashioned and more showy ? ” 


A MAKRIAGE OF REASON. 


109 


I donH know the Ricci Waltz.^’ 

Then the ^ Fior di Margarita.^ ’’ 

I’m very sorry, aunt.” And Katharine began 
in the same low voice, Du bist wie eine Blume.” 

Mr. Sherwood liked it — Mrs. Sherwood shrugged 
her shoulders. 

She’ll be a social failure, as sure as I am living,” 
she said to herself. She can’t even sing with spirit 
— I knew she would be handicapped by a convent 
education.” And then aloud, I shall send your 
gown back to be changed — the Lady Alicia St. John 
says young girls are wearing higher frocks in Eng- 
land this year.” 

Katharine thanked her, and passed to Der Erl 
Konig, 

Awful ! ” said Mrs. Sherwood, aside to her hus- 
band. “ She can’t sing the Ricci Waltz.” 

Hush ! It’s very sweet ! ” 

^^But what has sweetness got to do with music 
nowadays ? ” demanded his wife. She sighed ; that 
girl had gained one victory. 


CHAPTER XI. 


Danger. 


HE Lady Alicia St. John — or, let us call her, 



JL with Katharine, Biddy, since the republican 
pen is not used to titles — had a good heart and a 
clear head. But she had been brought up in that 
most artificial of all societies — the English-Irish set 
in Dublin. She had come to America simply because 
she was poor, on the invitation of Mrs. Worth, whom 
she had met abroad. Her relative, a very amiable 
French nobleman, had married into the Worth 
family for the same reason that had brought Biddy 
St. John to America. The Earl, Biddy’s father, 
could do nothing for her ; she had been brought up 
with the idea that she must settle herself in life — 
which meant that she must marry well, in a worldly 
point of view. She had a horror of the middle-class 
English and Irish men — of those who would be 
willing to marry her for her title, and who would 
probably consider her in the light of a slave whom they 
had bought. She had heard that the rich Ameri- 
cans were more refined, if not so well educated, than 
the men at home — that their horses and dogs were 
not held by them as little lower than their wives. 


110 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


Ill 


She did not know whether to believe this or not ; 
she determined to see for herself. Biddy knew that 
marriage was a Sacrament, but the people around 
her had always talked of it as if it were a mere con- 
tract. When others of the St. John family had mar- 
ried, Lord Bolingbroke’s man of business had ar- 
ranged everything. But bad times for Irish land- 
lords had left him nothing to arrange for Lady 
Alicia; she must be her own woman of business. 
She was twenty-five years of age, and she began to 
regard her future with a little anxiety. Her Ameri- 
can trip was an experiment ; the first scruple about 
it had been put into her mind by the scene between 
Mrs. Sherwood and Katharine. 

Katharine was a poor girl, without even a title ; 
more dependent than even Lady Alicia herself, and 
yet she was more powerful, more self-respectful, 
more capable of arranging her own future than she 
was. Katharine’s scruple about the dScolletS dress 
seemed a trifle to Lady Alicia; she had come to 
believe that most things ordained by society were 
proper. But there was a principle behind it, and 
Biddy’s Celtic blood — for she was not all Norman 
— was fired with admiration for a girl who could 
both detect a principle and stand up for it against all 
odds. Her relationship to Katharine made her in- 
clined to like her, but now she began actually to love 
her. She said to herself that, of all the Americans 
she had met, Katharine was certainly the most origi- 
nal and the most interesting. And, in her heart, she 


112 


A MAEEIAGE OF EEASON. 


admitted that the time might come when she would 
need some of the strength that Katharine evidently 
had. Biddy had flattered herself that she would do 
a great deal for Katharine by giving her social 'pres- 
tige ; she began to see that Katharine did not care 
for social prestige — in fact, had no conception of what 
it meant. 

I wish I were like her,^^ she said, with a sigh. 

Yes — to be like her — I would almost be willing 
to be born an American ! 

In the meantime, Mrs. Sherwood was much dis- 
quieted. What would the Lady Alicia think of 
Katharine’s nonsense about the dress ? Good gracious ! 
— suppose she should take ofienc^ at Katharine’s 
crudeness, and drop them altogether. It would mean 
social ruin, just as prosperity was rosily dawning ; 
she shivered, and determined to speak to Katharine ; 
for the first time in her life, her courage failed, and » 
she spoke to Mr. Sherwood instead. 

The girl is right,” Mr. Sherwood said. I have 
often felt like throwing a shawl over some of those 
brazen creatures.” 

That was because you were never used to society, 
Marcus.” 

My dear,” said Mr. Sherwood, you may order 
everything you like for yourself and my niece; I 
can afford it. Send to Felix at Paris, if you like to 
make a splurge — but let Katharine alone when she is 
right. You have been wanting me to give you cai'te 
blanche about trimmings and fripperies for a long 


A MARRIAGE OP REASON. 


113 


time ; now you have. I want you and the girl to 
enjoy yourselves.^’ 

Mrs. Sherwood was obliged to be content with 
this. But, after all, what was the use of it? A 
gown from Felix would be like dust in ashes, if 
Katharine should take it into her head to shock the 
right set by some horrid exhibition of what she 
called principle.” 

The Worth dinner and dance soon absorbed all 
her thoughts ; the Percivals would be there — every- 
body would be there. And next day all the names 
would be in the Ledger ^ thus putting upon her the 
final stamp of social beatitude. She closed her eyes 
and imagined she saw the print — Mrs. Kittenhouse, 
Mrs. Biddle, the Lady Alicia St. John, daughter of 
the Earl of Bolingbroke, Mrs. Marcus Sherwood.” 
Oh, dear ! — it was as if she had a glimpse of Para- 
dise. And to think that all this depended on the 
whim of a girl ! 

Katharine found a folded check in her room the 
day after her talk with her uncle. On the envelope 
was marked, ^rto do as you please with,” in her 
uncle’s writing ; and, inside, she read, you can earn 
this by singing for me for an hour every evening 
after dinner ! ” 

Katharine laughed ; her uncle knew how to give, 
she thought. She determined to find out how best 
to spend it ; she had become interested at Our Lady 
of the Rosary in the condition of the poor in the 
great cities, and she thought that she could find use 


114 


A MAKEIAGE OF REASON. 


for the hundred dollars her uncle had given her. It 
seemed a great deal to her ; she thought of a hun- 
dred things that might be done — each in reality 
more impossible than the other. Her uncle’s kind- 
ness gave her new life, and Mrs. Sherwood was 
somewhat consoled by the interest she showed in dif- 
ferent things. Still, she was generally silent and 
awkward before her aunt ; she felt chilled, and she 
knew that she was at her worst. Katharine’s 
keenest regret about this, was that her aunt threw 
the blame of it on Mother Ursula and the Sisters. 
It cost her some tears ; in spite of all her efforts, she 
constantly made mistakes and her lack of knowledge 
of the latest English fads ” was a sore trial to her. 
It amused her uncle, who almost fell under the table 
when Mrs. Sherwood ordered Dublin stout at 
luncheon the day after Lady Alicia’s visit, and tried, 
with many grimaces, to drink it. 

Katharine resolved to find out her poor just as 
soon as the \Yorth function was off the carpet. Mrs. 
Sherwood would not let her out of her sight until 
then ; so she submitted, in hope. It happened that 
Mrs. Sherwood’s day for seeing friends preceded this 
great assembly ; Katharine assisted her in making 
tea. She attracted no attention whatever, for she 
kept in the background, behind the big brass samo- 
var — which, as Mr. Sherwood said, was never used, 
because ^^he couldn’t afford to keep an engineer.” 
She had a lesson, however, in the ways of society. 
All Mrs. Sherwood’s old friends came, for Biddy’s 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


115 


visit had been noised abroad, and half a dozen peo- 
ple had said distinctly to many dozens, that the 
Sherwoods had climbed in at last ; so they all came 
to hear the details, if possible, and in the hope that 
the Lady Alicia might be there. It was the general 
opinion, though, that Mrs. Sherwood would keep 
such a precious social treasure to herself. 

Katharine was presented to a number of people, who 
stared at her in the soft light of the candles and took 
cups of tea from her with a cool thank you ; she 
was only Mrs. Sherwood’s niece, with no money and 
no manner particularly. One old lady, Mrs. Vava- 
sour, who had come all the way from Germantown, 
to find out whether that upstart,” Mrs. Sherwood, 
was really invited to the Worth dance, looked tired, 
and Katharine found the softest chair for her and 
made an unusually strong cup of tea. The old lady, 
who had more time than the rest to notice her, made 
her sit down. 

“Do you play or sing?” asked old Mrs. Vava- 
sour, drinking the tea to the dregs. “ And, by the 
way, that’s a very sweet cup — real Dresden, I’m 
sure, and there must be twenty of them — where do 
these people get their money? I knew your aunt, 
my dear, when she lived two doors from Willing’s 
Alley — and glad enough she was if I noticed her. 
My mother,” said the old lady, in an awful tone, 
“ was a Wister.” 

“ Dear me ! ” said Katharine, not quite sure 
whether this was the name of a religious sect or not. 
“ Have some more tea ? ” 


116 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


The old lady would, aud did ; she grew more com- 
fortable, and some of her wrinkles seemed to disap- 
pear. The velvet leaves aud flowers on her bonnet 
nodded complacently. 

It is strange how some people can climb,’’ she 
went on ; now, though my mother was a Wister, 
I’m out of everything because I’m poor — for money 
counts for everything in Philadelphia now — and 
here’s this Sherwood woman getting ahead, and with 
no particular blood in her veins.” 

Mrs. Sherwood is my aunt,” said Katharine, 
gently. 

I don’t see that that fact gives her any special 
claim to consideration,” said the old lady, with 
sharpness. 

Katharine blushed, and murmured that she did 
not mean — 

“ Ko matter,” said the old lady, I just want to 
tell you that if you are not rich, you’ll never be any- 
body here. Look at me; I’m half a Wister, and 
yet I am glad to come and drink tea at a fourth- 
class house ! ” 

The old lady seemed to be so much moved by her 
degradation, that she swallowed her tea at a gulp 
and asked for a third cup. Katharine, pitying her, 
brought her the plate with the freshest chocolate 
wafers. The old lady softened more and more. 

^^I wish somebody would play,” she said, ^^it’s 
such a help to conversation. Everybody is so quiet, 
and I am sure they have been listening to what I 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


117 


have said.” There was no doubt of this, for Mrs. 
V avasour’s voice was very shrill. There was a sup- 
pressed titter, and Mrs. Sherwood’s smile had a 
petrified look. Katharine saw at once that, in 
mercy to her aunt, the old lady’s flow of conversa- 
tion ought to be stopped. 

I’ll play something — if you’ll excuse me,” she 
said, with a manner in direct contrast to her usual 
awkwardness under her aunt’s eye. 

No — no,” said the old lady. Herr Teufelfisch 
is coming to-day — nobody but vulgar rich people 
can aflbrd to hire professionals for an afternoon tea. 
And, besides, your aunt says you’re from some 
Catholic boarding-school, where they’re now great 
for music. Come; talk to me. Your aunt’s father 
had a fish stall in Second Street — ” 

Katharine broke away; the expression on her 
aunt’s face was agonizing ; her heart was filled with 
pity — what a terrible thing “society” was, if it 
made one so unhappy about such a small thing ! 
She went to the piano, and, forgetting everything 
but her desire to help her aunt to escape Mrs. Vava- 
sour’s shrill revelations, she touched the keys and 
began the prelude to a bit from Kubenstein’s “ Lost 
Paradise.” She chose it because she could make it 
the loudest musical thing she knew. Crash went 
the prelude; Mrs. Vavasour raised her eyeglass in 
amazement. Then the fortissimo movement ceased, 
and Katharine’s voice arose above the rippling 
accompaniment. She was not self-conscious now ; 
9 


118 


A MAERIAGE OF REASON. 


her voice, well-trained and naturally good, filled the 
room; she had only one desire — to drown Mrs. 
Vavasour’s talk. 

I don’t know what to think,” the old lady said ; 
she quite takes my breath away.” 

After this, knowing that she had secured silence, 
Katharine ^ng Du bist wie eine Blume.” 

Her aunt looked around uneasily, prepared to 
make an apology for amateurishness, defective train- 
ing, etc. The song went on, and everybody listened. 
Mrs. Sherwood, whose traditions were those of the 
Ricci Waltz and all manner of fior^ituri^ was of the 
opinion that Katharine was making a fool of herself. 
As Katharine was finishing, there was a stir at the 
door, and Herr Teufelfisch entered. He was old 
and bent, his hair brushed straight up from his fore- 
head and bristling with defiance. His piercing 
black eyes were almost hidden under heavy white 
eyebrows ; he made a circular bow to the assembly, 
waved his long and knotted fingers to somebody who 
offered him a chair, and said impatiently to Mr. 
Wirt Percival, who accompaned him, — 

Ah, you good-for-nothing ! Be still — there is 
music ! ” 

Wirt Percival stood very straight. The ladies 
declared to one another in whispers that he looked 
very well. An immense gardenia adorned the lapel 
of a frock coat which reached almost to his heels and 
nearly covered his pearl-colored trousers ; he held a 
brilliantly polished tall hat in his hand and gazed. 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 119 

with the expression of a man carved out of wood, at 
the piano. 

Gracious ! said Mrs. Vavasour’s shrill voice, 
he’s quite too perfectly English ! ” 

Herr Teufelfisch gave her a terrible look from 
beneath his brows. Katharine ended and rose from 
the piano. Nobody dared to say anything until Herr 
Teufelfisch had spoken ; — was it good or bad ? The 
old German soon settled that question. He went up 
to Katharine and took her hand. 

You are young, mein fraulein,^ he said, looking 
at her kindly. She met his eyes without embarrass- 
ment — she liked the old man’s face. Already you 
sing well — you have been taught — ^you have been 
taught. I like your method almost as well as that 
of the young lady who sang with Herr von Bulow, 
when he was in this country. But you must not 
play your accompaniments — I will play.” 

He took the seat, and, pointing to a song by Schu- 
mann, began the prelude. Katharine, feeling as if 
Sister Cunegunda were playing for her, sang her best. 

I am pleased,” the old man said ; and he played 
a War Polonaise of his own composition ; but, above 
it, could be heard, Mrs. Vavasour’s voice — 

The girl seems clever — but neither Mr. nor Mrs. 
Sherwood have any relations that are not positively 

low-class. So she’s going to the Worth’s ” 

The polonaise thundered — and Katharine thanked 
Heaven ! Wirt Percival came to her side ; he was 
sincerely fond of music. 


120 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


You have given me a great pleasure/’ he said. 

Thanks, awfully.” 

You are kind.” 

“Will you be my partner for the cotillon to- 
morrow night ? ” he asked, with more warmth than 
his manner permitted him to show usually. 

“ Certainly,” Mrs. Sherwood said, before Katha- 
rine could speak. 

Herr Teufelfisch had reached a piano passage in 
his composition, and Mrs. Vavasour was heard — 

“ Yes, dear, she means to catch Wirt for the niece 
— well, Marcus Sherwood can afford to marry his 
niece, but I shouldn’t think ” 

“ Fortissimo ! ” unconsciously whispered Katha- 
rine to Herr Teufelfisch. 

The old gentleman stopped, bristling with rage, 
in the middle of a passage — 

“You mean to write my music for me, young 
lady ? ” he demanded. There was an awful silence. 
Percival looked at Katharine; her eyes were full of 
laughter. Mrs. Vavasour’s voice broke out. 

“Ah, I see,” said Herr Teufelfisch. “You want 
to stop that old woman’s tongue ! It is well.” And 
he thundered through the rest of the polonaise. 

As people took their leave, Katharine received 
much attention ; as Mr. Sherwood would have said, 
“ Her stock had gone up.” 

“You’ll come and sing for me on Thursday, at 
my little tea,” said Mrs. Vavasour, at parting. 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


121 


No,” said Mrs. Sherwood, as she kissed the dear 
old lady on both cheeks, no, my dear — Katharine 
really can’t sing for you, for she is engaged for a 
duet at my musicale with her cousin, the Lady 
Alicia St. John. I don’t intend that she shall sing 
to your old people in Germantown — they’re nearly 
all deaf, you know, by this time.” 

Mrs. Vavasour grinned. Tears came into Katha- 
rine’s eyes ; how heartless this was ! She took the 
old lady’s limp hand and said — 

I’ll come another time — with pleasure ! ” Mrs. 
Vavasour actually looked grateful, Mrs. Sherwood 
frowned, and Wirt Percival swore to himself that he 
had found the one woman that suited him. 


CHAPTER XII. 


A Proposal. 

I T was Mr. PercivaFs private opinion that Katha- 
rine would be entirely spoiled by her entrance 
into that charmed circle which people called 
‘^society,” and which was only one of a hundred 
circles calling themselves by that name. He was 
interested in her ; he regretted, though, that she had 
not had a better preparation for life, for it was his 
opinion, too, that convent training left a young 
woman without the self-dependence necessary in this 
world of to-day. She was a study ; he had never 
met anybody like her, and he determined to watch 
the effect of the new life on her and to step in and 
avert disaster, if it should be necessary. 

When Katharine entered the Worth drawing-room 
on the night of the dinner and cotillon, she felt that 
she was indeed in the great world — the dazzling 
world, of which she had dreamed. The Worths, 
though in Mrs. Vavasour’s opinion, only new peo- 
ple, had since the advent of the Lady Alicia, been 
received everywhere — for who could turn his back 
on an Earl’s daughter? They had a country-seat 
which had formerly belonged to an old Tory family 
122 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


123 


and lately they had attained to one of the best houses 
in Walnut Street. Katharine was delighted with the 
air of magnificent distance in this fine old room. 
Ijady Alicia had told the Worths that gas was vul- 
gar, and the whole apartment glowed with the light 
of innumerable wax candles, under soft shades. 

The dinner table, strewn with lilies and orchids 
and softened by red light, glittering with glass, and 
brilliant with color, gave Katharine great pleasure, 
for she was very susceptible to light and color and 
music. The guests for the cotillon were not expected 
until eleven o’clock ; at eight the few chosen ones 
who were to dine with the host and hostess were at 
the table, and the great event began. 

To Katharine it was a great event ; she had heard 
of the splendor of the world, and she was not disap- 
pointed. But where were the serpents under the 
roses against which she had been warned ? 

There was Biddy, very stately and rather preoccu- 
pied, next to old Mr. Worth ; on his left was Mrs. 
Percival. They were not serpents. And Wirt Per- 
cival, in a baggy evening suit, which was ostenta- 
tiously English and ill-fitting, seemed so genial and 
beaming, that he could not be one of those serpents. 
There were the dark-eyed, languid Marquis Darcy 
de Grandmont, who had married into the Worth 
family, Ferdinand Carey, Mr. and Mrs. Sherwood, 
the Marquise Darcy de Grandmont, stout and good- 
natured, May and Gertrude Worth, Alfred Deveril, 
Herr Teufelfisch, Mr. Percival, and Walter Dillon. 


124 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


The young men and the girls Katharine did not 
know — but they looked too happy to be instruments 
of evil. Katharine, as she took her soup, said to 
herself that she was afraid the only wickedness in 
this new world lay in her own heart. How lovely 
it all was ! Everybody seemed pleased with every- 
body else — how softly they talked and how gently 
the butler filled the glasses and served things and 
commanded his assistants ! It was an education to 
be present at such an assembly — surely a meeting 
like this represented the flower of civilization ! If 
these charming people only had the light of Faith, 
how complete it would all be. 

While Katharine’s thoughts were thus occupied, 
she was under the closest scrutiny. She did not sus- 
pect it, for everybody seemed otherwise engaged. 
The Lady Alicia was stately and distinguished in a 
Medici gown, with a great cascade of pearls falling 
from her neck to the edge of her corsage. May and 
Gertrude Worth were bright and blonde and pretty, 
but Katharine, her well-poised head rising from the 
tulle and peach -blossom draped artistically over her 
bosom, had an air which set her apart. There was 
no doubt about it — she was a ^^new flavor in 
society,” as the Marquis put it — and everything that 
is new in a certain way is sure to be successful. She 
was more distinguished than Lady Alicia, more 
beautiful than the Worth girls — though people had 
never hitherto considered her beautiful. The circle 
of society is so limited that people get tired of seeing 


A MARKIAGE OF REASON. 


125 


the same faces at dinner tables and assemblies. 
Katharine’s face was new. This was one secret of 
the attention she drew to herself. She had achieved 
simplicity without knowing it ; the nuns had given 
her a manner which was without a trace of self-con- 
sciousness. They had taught her not to wrinkle her 
face unnecessarily in meaningless smiles and foolish 
contortions, and she spoke the English language 
clearly and distinctly — a rare thing in a set where 
imitations of the worst English accent and slipshod, 
nasal enunciation was the rule. Mr. Percival said 
to himself that the women who had turned out this 
young girl from their school knew how to teach. 
There was Gertrude Worth, recently from a famous 
female ” college, who was great in microscopy and 
a budding biologist, who guessed ” constantly, and 
when she did not “ guess ” substituted I fawncy ” 
for it, and whose face became one mass of wrinkles 
whenever she put on her society manner.” 

Katharine had Herr Teufelfisch on one side and 
Walter Dillon on the other. Herr Teufelfisch did 
not speak after the soup had been removed. He 
intended to play Wagnerian music after dinner, and 
he was preparing for it. His knife went backwards 
and forwards, well laden with delicious morsels and 
plunged deep into his mouth with each morsel — for 
the musicker had no intention of changing his Vien- 
nese habits, to suit American prejudices. He smiled 
benignly at Katiiarine and bade the servant offer her 
a salmis of duck which he found particularly inter- 


126 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


esting. Her neighbor on the other side did not 
speak for some time. He was a tall, slight man, 
not over twenty-five, with a flush on his cheeks, a 
high collar, and a large white flower in his button- 
hole. At last with an effort, he said : 

Do you go out much. Miss — I beg pardon, but 
I did not catch your name when I was presented.’’ 

O’Conor — and I did not catch yours.” 

“People never do — the professional introducer 
sees to that. My name is Dillon — Walter Dillon, 
Miss O’Conor — and I am an architect,” he said, 
gaining some courage, as he caught Katharine’s look 
of amusement ; she really was not so impressive and 
depressing as most young women were, in full regalia, 
at the beginning of a dinner party. Katharine 
noticed that he had red hair closely cropped, and she 
took courage. There was a girl at school, Angelina 
Dillon, who had red hair. After all, it was a relief 
to find somebody that reminded her of home in all 
this splendor ; and a reminiscence of Angelina Dil- 
lon’s red hair was very home-like. Perhaps this 
young man might be related to her. She would ask 
him, after a time. Old Mr. Worth was saying some- 
thing in a low tone to Biddy, and Biddy was answer- 
ing with the greatest attention. Katharine wished 
she was nearer to them. People in Mrs. Craven’s 
novels always said such interesting things at dinner 
parties — and Biddy, who looked very serious, was 
probably showing off some of the brilliancy she had 
acquired in royal circles. 


A MAERIAGE OP REASOK. 


127 


Pardon me, Lady Alicia,” said Mrs. Sherwood, 
who was in her seventh heaven and anxious not to 
lose any pearl that might fall from the exalted peo- 
ple around her, I caught a word — ” 

The Lady Alicia was just saying that green tur- 
tle soup is much dearer in her country than here ; it 
is quite a luxury here,” Mr. Worth said. 

You have not the asparagus here that we have 
in France — it is great, grand, fat,” said the Marquis, 
smiling. 

Subdued talk followed this. 

When will the conversation begin ? ” asked 
Katharine, when slie had refused wine several times 
and rejected various delicacies which Herr Teufel- 
fisch, with his mouth full, pointed out to her. 

^Hf you sing, you must eat, mein fraulein” he 
said, sentimentally. 

The conversation ? ” repeated Dillon, I suppose 
that it has begun. Why, are you disappointed ? ” 

expected to hear somebody talk — not about 
green turtle and asparagus, but about — about — oh, 
about real things — books and politics and — every- 
thing,” said Katharine, vaguely, but earnestly. 

But that wouldn’t be in good form, you know — 
people always avoid that sort of thing at dinner.” 

^^Why?” 

Oh, because one might make other people un- 
comfortable by talking over their heads.” 

suppose that’s the reason you avoid saying 
anything brilliant,” said Katharine, mischievously. 


128 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


I really beg pardon — but we must account for it in 
some way.’’ 

Dillon looked at her with more interest and smiled. 

^^You don’t know how brilliant I can be. In 
fact, I don’t mind telling you that this is one of my 
first dinner parties. I’m a working man, you know 
— and I suspect that Mrs. Vavasour’s been making 
such a row about the old families being neglected 
because they are poor, that Mrs. Worth felt obliged 
to invite me, because my mother’s is an old family. 
And I came, I don’t mind telling you, because I 
hope that Mr. Worth will give me the job of re- 
modelling this old house — I wish he would. If I 
were rich I’d build a house for the Marquis just for 
the advertisement ! ” 

But Lady Alicia says the dinner talks in Dublin 
are very brilliant; that everything sparkles, and the 
women all have such musical voices — listen — ” 

^^She is speaking to the poet — Mr. Deveril’s a 
poet, you know; he is from Boston — poets don’t 
grow in Philadelphia, you know — listen ! — ” 

Oh, I assure you it’s quite different over there,” 
Biddy was saying in a high voice — nobody ever 
carries a package in the streets of Dublin. People 
here don’t seem to mind it.” 

Katharine was disappointed at this ; she strained 
her hearing to hear the golden words the poet was 
evidently about to utter. 

Yes,” he answered, with the same gracious air 
of attention that characterized all the talkers, we 
sometimes carry things wrapped up in paper.” 


A MARKIAGE OF REASON. 


129 


Dear me ! Katharine murmured. But there ! 
— the poet is going to speak again ! — he is answering 
Lady Cilicia’s question ! 

It is a calumny/’ Mr. Deveril was saying, with 
a smile, we always eat pork and beans on Sunday 
morning in Boston, but not every day.” 

I hope you will transfer those ^pearls of thought ’ 
to your note-book. Miss O’Conor,” said her neigh- 
bor, maliciously. 

It is too bad,” said Katharine, I am disap- 
pointed ! But you can assuage my despondency by 
saying something clever yourself.” 

By all means,” said Dillon, assuming an air of 
solemnity, when I am about to be brilliant I always 
assume this look. Before I came to this dinner, I 
read up letter ^ J ’ in an encyclopedia of biography 
— that is my way of preparing to be brilliant. ^ J.’ 
— Dr. Johnson. Do you remember the anecdote of 
Goldsmith’s saying that, if Dr. Johnson put little 
fishes into a story, he would make them talk like 
whales ? ” 

Of course I do ! ” said Katharine. 

It’s bad form for you to say that. How can I 
be brilliant, if you know all I am going to say? 
You should say : ^ Oh, Mr. Dillon, it must be very 
clever — do tell me.’ But, as you have spoiled my 
first attenapt to be brilliant under the letter ^ J,’ I 
shall have to use my anecdote in some way or other 
— for I can’t afford to waste it. I prepared myself 
with one brilliant English and with one brilliant 
American anecdote.” 


130 


A MAKRIAGE OF REASON 


Katharine was amused. Mr. Dillon seemed kind 
and friendly ; she put up her fan and laughed. It 
seemed wrong to laugh aloud when the servants were 
solemnly handing an entree around. 

You dared me to be brilliant — here goes ! Dil- 
lon whispered. ^^Mr. Worth/’ he said, addressing 
the host, your delicious white fish reminded me of 
an amusing thing that happened to me the first win- 
ter after I left college ; I was very sophomoric, you 
know — used big words — sonorous words.” 

^^Ah — yes, indeed — -just so,” Mr. Worth said, 
politely. 

One day at luncheon — we had white fish, but 
not with a sauce like yours, by the way — a fellow 
said, ^ Dillon, if you sophomores put little white 
fishes into stories, you’d make them talk like 
whales ! ’ ” 

Oh, don’t,” whispered Katharine, expecting to 
see Mr. Dillon crushed under general resentment of 
his audacity. 

^^How clever !” said Mrs. Worth. 

Tr^ spiriluel ! ” said the Marquis. 

And everybody laughed. 

Now you may be brilliant,” Dillon said to Kath- 
arine, suppose you make yourself the heroine of 
the George- Washington cherry-tree episode. I’ll 
lead up to it, if you like. I’ll ask. Were you ever 
in Virginia? and you can say, When I was in 
Virginia, I had a cherry tree and a little hatchet, 
and — ” 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


131 


Katharine was terrified at the young man’s bold- 
ness. 

Do hush — they’ll find you out ! ” 

I don’t think they will — if they do, they will 
be too well-bred to say so here. If somebody doesn’t 
talk, I shall have to be brilliant again ! ” 

I think you have been brilliant enough for one 
night. Do you really arrange topics of conversation 
in that way before you go out ? ” 

I have to,” said her neighbor, gravely. I 
can’t talk shop, you see — gargoyles, and oriel win- 
dows, and front elevations would not do. For 
instance,” he continued, with a glimmer of mischief 
in his eyes, “ in order to vary my conversation, I 
glanced at an American dictionary of biography and 
fell by chance upon the Ds — Depew. That reminded 
me of an anecdote told by Mr. Chauncey Depew. I 
change it a little and it fits me ! ” 

Oh, don’t ! ” said Katharine, laughing in spite 
of herself. 

‘^If somebody would only give me a chance — 
would you mind turning the conversation to pie ? ” 
To pie ! ” said Katharine, surprised. 

“ We eat a great deal of pie in America,” said Mr. 
Worth, catching the word which Katharine had 
spoken rather loud. Have you noticed it. Lady 
Alicia ? ” 

“ Do you mean tarts ? ” asked Lady Alicia — say- 
ing to herself, ^^upon my word, Kitty and that 
young Dillon are getting on famously.” 


132 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


Mr. Dillon had his chance. 

That reminds me/^ he said, with a serious face, 
that once at a party, I tried to tell a little story, 
and I was squelched. It happened that, stopping 
at a country hotel — where they have women waiters, 
you know, I was asked by one of them, a very pert 
young creature, what I would have for dessert, and 
she ran down the list glibly — lemon pie, raisin, 
custard, mince, pumpkin, raspberry, apple.^^ And 
I said just as glibly — ^ lemon, raisin, custard, mince, 
pumpkin, raspberry ! ^ ‘ What’s the matter with the 
apple ? ’ she demanded, with concentrated pertness. 
Well, the lady next to me actually asked — ^ What 
was the matter with the apple pie ? ’ ” 

There was silence, except for a faint giggle 
from Katharine. A cold perspiration came out 
on Mr. Dillon. Mrs. Sherwood raised her eye- 
glasses and asked, ^^What was the matter with 
the apple pie ? ” 

Mr. Dillon gasped. 

There was no apple pie,” he said, subsiding and 
whispering to Katharine. I have been too bril- 
liant. Did you ever see such a stupid woman ? ” 
^^She is my aunt,” said Katharine, maliciously. 
Mr. Dillon said no more ; he bowed his head over 
his sherbet, and when the long dinner ended, gave 
Katharine his arm, looking very penitent. His by- 
play had been the one redeeming point of this tire- 
some ceremony. How could people endure this sort 
of thing night after night ? she asked herself. 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


133 


About eleven o’clock the guests invited to the 
cotillon began to arrive. In the meantime, Herr 
Teufelfisch had played something of Wagner’s and 
something of his own ; and he had made Katharine 
sing one of Mendelssohn’s Ideder. Her aunt was 
afraid she would make a fool of herself, but every- 
body seemed pleased. She did, however, think that 
Katharine made a fool of herself when the cotillon 
began. Wirt Percival, who was to head the dance, 
led Katharine to a chair in the large ring. 

I’m afraid I don’t know it,” she said ; I’m 
sure it is very pretty — but you had better let me sit 
it out.” 

^^It’s very easy,” Wirt said; ^Hhe first figure 
will be the flower figure. We all waltz, you know, 
and each woman pins one of those bunches of roses 
on her partner’s coat, and then — ” 

But I can’t waltz,” said Katharine, and I am 
not sure — oh, you must excuse me ! ” 

“ Nonsense ! ” said Mrs. Sherwood, from the 
chaperons’ seats, near which Katharine was stand- 
ing. 

‘^Let her give out the favors,” suggested Mrs. 
Percival, who understood Katharine’s scruples. 
Carey can take my place,” said Wirt Percival, 
I can’t dance without a partner. I will help Miss 
O’Conor to give out the favors.” 

That girl’s a fool!” hissed Mrs. Sherwood. 
could shake her — why can’t she dance like other 
people ? ” 

10 


134 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


Mrs. Percival overheard her ; her eyes flashed — 

She has her reasons, which I understand.’’ 

The two women looked at each other, smiled, and 
declared war. Everybody said that Wirt Percival 
must have found a great attraction in Katharine, to 
induce him to give up his favorite dance. He led 
Katharine to the table which was heaped with 
flowers, false faces, tinselled toys of all kinds, 
swords, and little flags. 

shall reassume the leadership for one figure 
and introduce the minuet, with these swords and 
three-cornered hats. You will dance that, will you 
not?” 

With pleasure,” Katharine answered, gratefully ; 
it was certainly kind of him to give up his dance. 
But yet he seemed to find pleasure in helping her to 
give out the favors for each figure. 

Ferdinand Carey and Lady Alicia led the first 
intricate figures with grace and enjoyment. The 
music was delightful ; Katharine could hardly keep 
her feet still; Wirt watched her face, intent with 
almost childish interest on the mazes of the cotillon. 

You would like to dance?” he asked. 

Oh, yes,” she said, I can never hear music 
without wanting to dance. No — don’t ask me — I 
will not waltz ; I don’t think it is wrong for any- 
body else, but it would be against my conscience ! ” 
He smiled, and looked at her admiringly. Lady 
Alicia was certainly very distinguished, and she had 
a title, but Katharine was by all odds the more 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


135 


attractive. He blew the beribboned whistle he held 
in his hand, and announced the minuet. 

^^Now she will surely make a fool of herself/’ 
murmured her aunt, putting up her eyeglass. But 
no — with crimson cheeks and bright eyes she glided 
over the floor with the grace of a swan, and when it 
came to the courtesy, Mr. Percival said — 

^^By Jove, those nuns have preserved for their 
pupils all the old grace of Versailles ! ” 

Katharine enjoyed it thoroughly ; and the great 
tinselled fan she received in the last figure pleased 
her mightily; it should go the first thing in the 
morning to her little Spanish pet at the convent. 
Mrs. Sherwood gained courage as Katharine’s grace 
in the minuet was remarked and began to explain 
that it was Katharine’s first appearance; she had 
never been even “ brought out ” formally. 

Well, she is very much out,” said Mrs. Worth, 
cordially, ^^and, if Ferdinand Carey’s eyes mean 
anything, she will soon go out of your chaperonage, 
Mrs. Sherwood.” 

Mrs. Sherwood smiled, but looked anxious ; she 
preferred that Wirt Percival should be the man ; a 
glance at him reassured her ; he was fanning Katha- 
rine with his three-cornered hat, while a band of 
zithers stationed behind a group of orange trees 
played the lieder Katharine had sung. Which 
would it be ? Mr. Dillon sulked in a corner of the 
room, and the poet was writing an autograph on 
May Worth’s fan — Mrs. Sherwood saw with relief 
that the detrimentals were out of the way. 


136 


A MAREIAGE OF REASON. 


At last the bright movements of the dance were 
over and the supper table was like the hackneyed 
broken rainbow — a mass of fragmentary colors. 
Ferdinand Carey helped Katharine with her wraps. 
Young Percival had disappeared. 

Once inside the carriage, Katharine gave a sigh of 
relief — 

The minuet was lovely, uncle,^^ she said, but I 
am glad the whole thing is over. The nicest person 
there was that Mr. Dillon. Mr. Percival is too 
serious — he actually asked me to marry him. Per- 
haps he was in fun ! ” 

And what did you say ? gasped her aunt. 

^^Oh, I said no, of course — how could I marry 
anybody so soon, and a non-Catholic, too ! ’’ 

Mrs. Sherwood actually shook Katharine. 

You don’t mean it ! ” 

I do,” said Katharine, annoyed. 

And you refused the best match in town for a 
silly scruple — oh, Marcus, what a fool this girl is ! ” 
I know, aunt, that if you do not quit pinching 
and shaking me, I shall get out and walk ! ” said 
Katharine. 

Her uncle was bewildered, and Mrs. Sherwood 
had hysterics as soon as she reached home. Katha- 
rine went, like a criminal, to her room. Once there, 
she found consolation in those Mysteries of the 
Kosary, which were as a well of clear water in a 
desert. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


Katharine Pleases Her Aunt. 


IRT PERCIVAL was a man of impulses, 



and these impulses were generally right or 


wrong, according to circumstances. The impulses 
of a well-regulated man are generally right, and 
those of a good woman always right ; but Wirt had 
never known discipline or real self-control. People 
said that he was a very amiable young man ; he did 
not drink to excess; he was rich, handsome, and 
society admired him secretly because he had, while 
in England, become the close friend of the Duke of 
Caithness and had entertained him during the Duke’s 
visit to Philadelphia, at his country seat. He was 
^Wery English,” everybody said — sensible people 
smiled at his Anglomania and predicted that it 
would pass away. Other people rather envied his 
affectations and imitated them in a humbler way. 
But had he been ill-tempered and ugly, Wirt Per- 
civil would have been regarded by such women as 
Mrs. Sherwood was a social archangel. He was 
rich ; he was received everywhere ; when he went 
abroad, his wife — if he should marry — would be 
presented at court under the most favorable circum- 


137 


138 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


stances ; he had a house in one of the best streets in 
the city and a country place that was truly desirable 
in every particular. He dressed faultlessly ; he had 
even been asked several times to go over to the Patri- 
archs’ balls in New York, to lead the cotillon. What 
more could any human being desire ? He had pro- 
posed to Katharine on the impulse of the moment. 
It would certainly have been a greater distinction to 
be the husband of the Lady Alicia St. John, whose 
name would have gone very well with his own, and 
fitted in with that of his place, Bolingbroke. But 
Katharine’s brightness and simplicity had upset his 
calculations. She had a ^^new flavor;” she was very 
unlike all the young girls in his set, many of whom 
had been elaborately over-trained for society,” — 
who knew to a dot whether they were to be demure 
or gay and whose social life was a bit of constant 
acting. The Lady Alicia attracted him; but she 
was somewhat too self-assertive for him ; besides, 
she dressed badly, and this, in the eyes of the fas- 
tidious Wirt, almost counterbalanced the glorious 
fact that she had been trained in all the English 
ways. Besides, the Lady Alicia, was not properly 
impressed with the importance of the Percivals, and 
she had actually laughed at his English accent. 

Faith !” she had said, where did you pick it 
up — in the waters under the earth ? ” 

He had not taken Katharine’s refusal as final. 
But Mrs. Sherwood did not know this ; she was in 
despair. Katharine was up very early, on the morn- 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


139 


iug after the cotillon. She was at Mass, when Mrs. 
Sherwood came down to breakfast, prepared for open 
war. Her husband, engaged with his newspaper 
and his egg, was unsympathetic. 

I am glad Katharine had the pluck to refuse that 
imitation Cockney,’^ he said, as he took another cup 
of coffee. “ It was impertinent in him to ask her on 
such a short acquaintance.’^ 

He is the best match of the season — only think 
of it ! — he is a Percival, with money, family, every- 
thing ! What a push upwards it would have given 
us ! Oh, Marcus,” she added, with irritation, I 
wish you would learn that people don’t shake hands 
in the old way any more — it’s quite gone out. Last 
night when Mrs. Worth dropped her hand into yours 
with a beautiful curve of her arm, you actually 
grabbed — yes, grabbed her fingers.” 

I don’t understand these new-fashioned ways. 
When the old woman clawed me, I just gave her 
hand a hearty shake. What nonsense ! If you 
plague me in this way, my dear. I’ll slip out of the 
whole thing and let you run the society end of our 
household alone,” Mr. Sherwood said placidly ; but 
I insist that you will not badger Katharine about 
this young idiot of a Percival. He is not good 
enough for her.” 

Not good enough ! ” Mrs. Sherwood almost 
screamed. You forget he is a Percival and rich, 
and she’s nobody and has nothing ! ” 


140 


A MAERIAGE OF REASON. 


You forget that she is my niece. And, in a few 
days, I shall have made a financial arrangement ♦ 
which will make her independent. I guess, too, 
that if this Lady St. John were asked, she would 
give her opinion in favor of Katharine’s ancestry 
against your Percivals.” 

“ The Irish kings — and all that,” answered Mrs. 
Sherwood, with a sneer. 

Mr. Sherwood made no reply. Katharine ran 
hastily upstairs, and, having asked for a cup of cof- 
fee, applied herself to the consideration of Kathleen 
O’Meara’s Madame Mohl.” She trembled at every 
passing footstep ; she was prepared for a storm. 
Her aunt was engaged for a luncheon of the Society 
of Women of Culture at one o’clock and for a session 
of the Browning at four, and so she felt safe, but she 
knew that the storm must come. 

During the afternoon Mrs. Percival called for the 
first time. She asked carelessly for Mrs. Sherwood, 
but did not attempt to conceal the fact that her visit 
was really to Katharine. Mrs. Percival, who prided 
herself on her irreproachable good breeding, did not 
hesitate to lift her head high in the air and to say 
scornfully before the servant, as she looked around 
the elaborately furnished drawing-room : 

Money ! — absolutely, the very air smells of 
money ! ” 

She waited disdainfully until Katharine appeared. 
She greeted her effusively, kissing her on both 
cheeks. 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


141 


You’re just a little out of place in all this 
parvenu splendor, my dear,” she said, and by the 
way, I wish you’d just order a cup of tea for me — 
or, better, make it yourself, while I talk, if that 
big pile of tea-cups on the table is intended for 
use at all. I do not see why people will crowd 
their rooms with all sorts of useless odds and 
ends of china. But, as they are here, do make 
some use of them.” 

Katharine lit the alcohol lamp and rang for water. 
She was glad to make tea for Mrs. Percival, for she 
felt nervous and the occupation soothed her. 

There,” said Mrs. Percival, give me that Bel- 
lek cup — the one like an eggshell. Thanks.” She 
watched Katharine with some eagerness, drinking 
her tea slowly, when Katharine had made it, and 
chattering about indifferent things. So your aunt’s 
out,” she said, how lucky ! — I mean how unlucky ! 
Still, perhaps it is just as well ; I want to have a 
quiet talk with you.” 

Katharine took a cup of tea, and sat down in a 
low chair near the window. The light fell on her 
hair, and turned some of the tendrils of it to a red 
gold. It was unruly hair, and there were always 
tendrils loosening themselves from the smooth bands. 
Her long lashes, slightly drooping, showed a glint 
of the deep blue of her eyes, and her cheeks had just 
a tint of red. Mrs. Percival noticed the graceful 
curves in which her white gown fell about the low 
chair, and said to herself : 


142 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


Our little convent bird is a swan, after all, — 
but how adorably sweet and simple ! how docile and 
amiable ! I am glad that Wirt has a good temper ; 
an angry word would drive this lovely girl to Ophe- 
lia’s death.” 

Mrs. Percival was sentimental at times. She 
patted Katharine gently on the cheek. 

My dear,” she said, do you know why I 
came?” 

^^To see my aunt,” answered Katharine, her eye- 
lashes still down over her eyes. 

Mrs. Percival laughed. 

^^You are very sly. Your aunt is doubtless a 
very good woman, but I assure you people who live 
in Kenwood, no matter how rich they may be, are 
not generally on my visiting list. I came, my dear, 
to wish you joy, and to hope that you will be happy. 
You are a great success — everybody from you know 
who to Herr Teufelfisch is raving about you. And 
the Marquis says that you speak French like a 
Tourainais. I never thought that Wirt would take 
such a fancy to anybody outside of our set. I saw 
last night that he was smitten, and I shall be 
charmed to have you as a niece.” 

Mrs. Percival expected a flood of tears and some 
incoherent words of gratitude. She felt like a King 
Cophetua raising up the beggar-maid. Katharine 
looked at her suddenly, with a flash in lier blue eyes. 

Tell me all about it, dear, somebody may inter- 
rupt us. Wirt didn’t confide in me, but I know 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


143 


something has happened. What do you think of 
the dear boy ? ” 

think/’ said Katharine, ^Hhat he was very 
impudent.” 

Mrs. Percival stared. 

Impudent ! ” 

I certainly do,” said Katharine, a blue light 
flashing from her eyes ; he seemed to imagine last 
night that he had only to ask me — me, who knew 
nothing at all about him — to be his wife, and that 
was all. Fancy — I scarcely knew him at all ! ” 

You know that he is Wirt Percival — my nephew 
— and you call him impudent to me ! ” 

You have sneered at my aunt,” returned Katha- 
rine, in her soft voice, and I fancy I may imitate 
your good breeding in giving my opinion of your 
nephew.” 

Mrs. Percival put down her tea-cup, and looked 
at Katharine in amazement. 

Do you mean to tell me that you did not feel 
the honor of a proposal from Wirt Percival ? ” 

am not sure that I did, under the circum- 
stances. I do not know much about proposals of 
marriage. I imagine that I should regard a pro- 
posal from any honest man as an honor, if his regard 
for me was based on esteem ; but your nephew knows 
as little about me as I know about him. Don’t let 
us talk about it, Mrs. Percival, he has probably for- 
gotten his foolishness by this time, and I forgive 
him.” 


144 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


You forgive him ! repeated Mrs. Percival, 
dumbfounded. ^^Do you know that half the girls 
in town would go wild with joy if Wirt said the 
things to them that he said to you.’^ 

Probably/^ said Katharine, smiling a little. 

How is Mr. Percival ? I think he is so much 
nicer than his nephew.^^ 

Mrs. Percival was reduced to silence. She felt 
that to repeat that Wirt was a Percival would be 
very ineffective in this case, as the Percivals to 
Katharine were not any better known than the 
Robinson Crusoes. She was ashamed to talk of 
Wirt’s wealth — that might look vulgar. She had 
sense enough to see that Katharine was loyal to her 
aunt, and truthful ; she was at once struck with anger 
and admiration. She determined to play a last card. 

You know,” she said, ‘Hhat Wirt inherited all 
the Brown-Rittenhouse diamonds from his mother.” 

Katharine laughed. 

^^Oh, dear Mrs. Percival,” she said, ^4et us be 
friends. I am not fond of diamonds — besides, my 
uncle Vill give me all the jewels I want. Some of 
the other girls who are fond of your nephew can 
have the diamonds.” 

You have been reading too many novels. Did 
the nuns teach you that you should prefer obscurity 
to a good marriage ? ” 

The nuns taught me that Matrimony is a Sacra- 
ment,” answered Katharine, gravely, ^^and not an 
affair of diamonds.” 


A MAEEIAGE OF EEASON. 145 

Mrs. Percival could not meet this with a sneer, as 
Mrs. Sherwood would have done — she was a Catholic 
herself. 

you mean to say that you have given Wirt 
to understand that — ’’ 

I told hiin/^ said Katharine, hastily, that, even 
if I liked him I could not marry outside the Church.^^ 

J married outside the Church,” said Mrs. Per- 
cival, ^^and my marriage has not been unhappy. 
Well-bred people do not constantly thrust religion 
upon each other.” 

A few moments before this conversation Mrs. 
Percival was only half-satisfied with Katharine as 
the prospective wife for her nephew. Now Katha- 
rine’s honest and straightforward position had given 
her a very high place in Mrs. Percival’s eyes. She 
was irritated, and yet she felt that Katharine was 
worthy of the honor Wirt had paid her. Besides, 
Mrs. Percival, having a will of her own, would 
have liked to conquer Katharine’s. Katharine, 
with heightened color, rose, and busied herself with 
the tea-things. Mrs. Percival rose, too, and shook 
out her various frills and bugles. 

I can only say that you are a very courageous 
girl to refuse Wirt Percival. If you had any social 
perspective, you would know that you are losing an 
opportunity to be a leader in the best society in 
America. After this, you can’t, of course, expect 
the same courtesies from our set — ” Mrs. Percival 
caught the look in Katharine’s eyes, paused and 


146 


A MAREIAGE OF REASON. 


blushed. It was not a look of reproach or regret 
or of scorn. It was simply one of surprise. 

‘^I believe/’ muttered Mrs. Percival to herself, 
^Hhat I am as capable of being vulgar as Mrs. 
Sherwood.” 

She did not kiss Katharine ; she nodded her head 
in a stately way, and said good-bye. She went away, 
utterly dissatisfied with herself ; nobody knew better 
than she how difficult a mixed marriage was, even 
under the most favorable conditions, and yet vanity 
and family pride were causing her to be angry with 
Katharine for refusing to make one. 

Katharine returned to Madame Mohl,” and 
gradually forgot her agitation. She began to think 
that, after all, outside of the Sisters, books were the 
best friends that one could have. 

Mr. Sherwood did not appear at dinner. He had 
been obliged to go to New York for a week, and the 
summons had come unexpectedly. Apprised of this 
by one of the servants, Katharine, attired in one of 
her pretty light dresses, went to meet her aunt, with 
a heavy heart. 

In the meantime, Mrs. Sherwood had made her 
plan. She rejoiced at the absence of her husband ; it 
made the way clear. She had become so accustomed 
to the telling of what the social” world calls ^^tirra- 
diddles,” that a lie more or less — for a good purpose, 
of course — made no difference to her. She had been 
almost wild ” at the thought of the social advantages 
Katharine was tearing from her by her refusal of 


A MAREIAGE OF REASON. 147 

Wirt Percival. It must not be, she said over and 
over to herself. She was convinced that no merely 
mercenary motive could touch Katharine; she re- 
solved to touch her heart. 

Mrs. Sherwood had a certain respect for Katha- 
rine, founded on the incomprehensible fact that other 
people admired her ; she neither admired nor liked 
her, and she honestly believed that Katharine had 
concealed her accomplishments simply with a view 
of mortifying her. Katharine had seemed like a 
fool, — but suddenly she had begun to be the belle of 
the season. Nevertheless, Mrs. Sherwood held that 
she was a fool ; for only a fool would throw away a 
chance of the highest social elevation for a mere 
scruple of conscience, — and only a fool would let her 
heart speak where the head should be supreme. To 
the heart of this fool she resolved to appeal with a 
lie, — which, as she said to herself, nobody but an 
inexperienced fool in the ways of the world would 
believe. 

Mrs. Sherwood and Katharine sat opposite each 
other at the round table. A yellow-covered lamp in 
its centre cast a soft light on the two women, — 
Mrs. Sherwood, erect, haughty, smiling; Katharine, 
thoughtful and pale, with a huge bunch of white 
pansies near her plate, which seemed to give her a 
certain consolation, as the stiff dinner proceeded, — 
for Mrs. Sherwood never omitted a course or a wine, 
no matter who was absent. When the coffee was 
served and the servants had gone, Mrs. Sherwood 


148 


A MAERIAGE OF REASON. 


took up her bunch of yellow roses and watched 
Katharine over it for awhile. She was embarrassed ; 
how should she begin to strike ? 

I have arranged a lovely plan for your coming- 
out party, my dear,^^ she said, and I was thinking 
to-day that when we give a dinner in honor of your 
engagement to Mr. Percival that I shall have the 
centre of the table banked with moss and filled with 
growing ferns — 

Katharine put down her cup. 

I shall never be engaged to Mr. Percival — ’’ 

He will ask you again.^’ 

I shall not give him the chance.’^ 

My dear,’^ said Mrs. Sherwood, you must ; — 
you must — 

Katharine raised her head proudly. 

Aunt,’’ she said, I will do anything reasonable 
to please you, — but I will never marry Mr. Percival.” 

Suppose that Mr. Percival alone could save your 
uncle from ruin, — suppose he held notes of your 
uncle, — suppose that these notes were over-due, — 
suppose that Mr. Percival could at a month’s notice 
turn your uncle and myself into the street — banish 
us from all this beauty and luxury.” 

Katharine opened her eyes as one intent. She 
looked at the exquisitely chased silver coffee-cups and 
at the flowers and rich screen behind her aunt’s chair. 
It is impossible ! ” 

No. Mr. Percival can do all these things, unless 
you make it impossible.” 

is a monster to threaten you !” cried Katharine. 


A MARKIAGE OF REASON. 


149 


He has not threatened, but he can take his 
rights.” 

Mrs. Sherwood went over to Katharine and 
brushed her cheek with her lips. 

Will you save us? ” 

“ I can’t, aunt, — I can’t ! — anything but that. 
Surely, you do not want to make me wretched for 
life ? You don’t know what a vital thing religion is 
— it means trouble all my life for me, if I consent.” 

I am not quite a heathen,” said Mrs. Sherwood, 
curling her lip. 

But you are not a Catholic.” 

Mrs. Sherwood bit her lip ; she could hardly 
restrain herself from shaking Katharine. 

You must save your uncle or not. For me,” said 
Mrs. Sherwood, I know you have little regard.” 

Katharine rose, disengaging herself from Mrs. 
Sherwood’s hand which had rested on her shoulder, 
and went to the long window, filled with the dusk. 
She did not doubt her aunt’s word; she was not 
accustomed to doubt. 

I met Mr. Percival to-day, and asked him to 
dinner for to-morrow night. He will speak to you 
again.” 

A sudden light filled Katharine’s face ; she turned 
to her aunt, — 

I will save you if I can.” 

Oh, you sweet girl ! ” exclaimed Mrs. Sherwood, 
kissing her. ^^You shall have a trousseau from 
Paris that will amaze these upstarts ! ” 

11 


150 


A MAEEIAGE OF EEASON. 


But uncle cannot afford it, — ^you said — ’’ began 
Katharine. 

you save us he can,^^ said Mrs. Sherwood, 
^^but do not humiliate your uncle by telling him 
what I have said. He would die if he knew I had 
appealed to you.^’ 

I will do my best — I will do my best,^^ said 
Katharine, hastily turning away. I could not be 
ungrateful.^^ 

I believe you,^’ answered her aunt. I have a 
box for the opera — go, dress, and we shall be in time 
for the third act of ^ Lohengrin.^ Hurry ! 

Katharine looked pleased. Music was delightful 
to her at all times ; she ran up to her room. 

Mrs. Sherwood laughed as she put a soft wrap over 
her yellow silk. > 

“ T knew that this chance of being a heroine would 
overcome her religious scruples and sentimental non- 
sense. What a fool she is ! It did not need much 
diplomacy to overcome her. And now for the 
opera ! 

Katharine came down, looking neither a heroine 
nor a martyr, covered with a fur cloak, and with 
the score of the opera in her hand. I have con- 
quered,’^ Mrs. Sherwood said to herself. 


CHAPTEE XIV. 


A Warning. 

I T would be difficult to describe the pleasure with 
which Mrs. Sherwood eujoyed the opera. She 
disliked Wagner’s music, but the knowledge that 
she had gained a victory gave her a serenity and a 
cheerfulness that made even the German composer’s 
choruses things of joy. Katharine was disposed of, 
and disposed of to the most desirable man in the 
town. She had done more at one stroke than half 
the manoeuvring mothers could have accomplished 
during a whole season’s campaign. Well might she 
rest in her well-cushioned chair in the Academy of 
Music and reflect on her laurels. Katharine might 
have made a better match, she reflected ; but that 
could only have been done abroad, and there was no 
knowing whether a girl like Katharine would go 
well in the European market, even if backed by 
Mr. Sherwood’s millions. Mrs. Sherwood looked 
at Katharine as she leaned over the edge of the box, 
with her flushed cheek resting on her hand, and 
wondered what people saw in her. 

Convent education can’t be such a failure, after 
all,” she said to herself. The idea of sane people 

161 


152 


A MAEEIAGE OF EEASON. 


admiring those simple German songs she sings — it’s 
quite too foolish ! ” 

Well, it was time to be complacent. Her niece 
would be Mrs. Wirt Percival, and her position in 
the best set would be fixed. Even that horrid Mrs. 
Percival, or that atrocious Mrs. Vavasour could not 
injure it. But, unhappily for her, Mrs. Sherwood’s 
standard of judgment was utterly worldly, and she 
could not imagine the existence of any standard 
except her own. Had she been a little more un- 
worldly, she would have understood Katharine 
better. She saw visions of social success in Eng- 
land before her. She would take a house in Lon- 
don, and there would be telegrams in all the Ameri- 
can papers in which her presentation at court by the 
wife of the American minister would be elaborately 
chronicled. The curtain went down on the act, and 
Katharine turned to her aunt, awakening suddenly 
from the spell of the music. There was a knock at 
the door of the box, and Wirt Percival, in an ill- 
fitting suit of clothes made by an English tailor, 
came in, accompanied by a tall, slim young man 
with white eyelashes, and an eyeglass held in his 
right eye without apparent muscular exertion. 

^^Let me present Lord Marchmont,” Wirt Perci- 
val said. He is most anxious to meet you, Mrs. 
Sherwood. Lord Marchmont — Miss O’Conor.” 

Mrs. Sherwood made a stiff inclination. Katha- 
rine rose and made her courtesy, after the manner oi 
her school, which was very quaint and graceful. 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


153 


Lord Marchmont actually took out his eyeglass in 
order to see her better. 

Lovely girl, Percival,” Mrs. Sherwood heard 
him murmur. She was very gracious to Wirt Per- 
cival, who sat down near her, while Lord March- 
mont did not conceal his admiration for Katharine. 

Who is he ? Mrs. Sherwood asked, in a 
whisper. 

^^Who? Marchmont? Oh, he’s the son of the 
Earl of Bassford — knew him in London ; he comes 
over to marry a rich American, like the rest of ’em,” 
said Wirt, with a laugh. He’s not much to look 
at, is he ? ” 

Mrs. Sherwood mused. What a pity that she had 
not another niece to whom Mr. Sherwood would be 
generous ! Fancy the dizzy happiness — the delirium 
of delight — of being aunt to Lady Marchmont ! 
Wirt Percival was well enough, but the son of an 
earl was so much better. Mrs. Sherwood did not 
consider the character of the man at all ; he was an 
earl’s son, that was enough. She tapped him on the 
shoulder with her fan, interrupting his talk with 
Katharine, and asked him to dinner. 

The curtain rose, and the music began. 

Hush ! ” Katharine said. 

Lord Marchmont was politely silent, though the 
people in the opposite box chattered with all their 
might. He watched Katharine’s changing color. 
There was sincerity, he admitted ; there was uncon- 
sciousness. The young women in the opposite box 


154 


A MAERIAGE OF REASON. 


were very sparkling and artificial. It did not re- 
quire an opera-glass to see that their eyes were as 
heavily made up with black pigment as those of 
the singers on the stage, and their cheeks were 
heavily rouged. Lord Marchmont wondered why 
these fashionable Americans adopted the nastiest of 
the latest English fashions, when they could gain so 
much by being simple and unconscious. He looked 
with distaste on the heavy rouge plastered on Mrs. 
Sherwood’s cheeks, and observed with pleasure the 
natural color of Katharine’s. 

Mrs. Sherwood was thinking how foolish Katha- 
rine was not to rouge a little ; — she compared her 
disapprovingly with the chattering and brilliantly- 
colored group in the opposite box. Mrs. Percival 
gave her a cold nod from the parquette. She con- 
sidered boxeB vulgar, and said to Mr. Percival that 
only new people ” were so ostentatious. The sight 
of Katharine filled her with irritation. She liked 
the girl. In her heart she did not want her to 
marry a non-Catholic ; but she hated the thought 
that anybody should hold the favor of entering her 
family so lightly. She would have preferred to see 
Wirt marry the Lady Alicia ; but, after all, Katha- 
rine was so simple, so natural, and so kind that she 
had a feeling she ought to belong to the Percivals. 

After the opera. Lord Marchmont was polite 
enough to pay some attention to Mrs. Sherwood, 
and this gave Wirt Percival a chance to speak to 
Katharine. He adjusted her wrap, and she took 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


155 


his arm on their way through the foyer to the 
carriage. 

I hope you will give me a chance of renewing 
our talk at the cotillon, Miss Conor. I did not 
take your answer as final, you know. If you will 
give me a chance after your aunt’s dinner-party, I 
shall—” 

They had made their way through the smiling, 
talking crowd, and they now stood in the vestibule, 
almost alone, for Wirt had walked more quickly 
than the rest. 

I do want to talk to you, Mr. Percival,” Katha- 
rine said, eagerly, but there is no time here.” 

Wirt’s face lighted : she had reconsidered her 
determination, then. She certainly would make a 
creditable hostess at Bolingbroke. Even at this 
moment he sighed — if her name was only the Lady 
Alicia ! ” But, after all, he reflected, a man could 
not have everything. 

^^Your niece is the loveliest girl I have seen in 
America,” said Lord Marchmont, enthusiastically. 

I am glad you have asked me to dine with you. 
It’s a great privilege to meet a girl like that. We 
have a great many American girls in London, — 
Lady Kandolph Churchill is an American, you 
know.” 

‘‘Yes,” said Mrs. Sherwood, stifling the title, 
“ My Lord,” on her lips. She wished she could cry 
out aloud to the assembled multitude, “ This is Lord 
Marchmont ! ” It might be vulgar, but it would be 


156 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


SO satisfactory. If she could only see one of those 
newspaper people in the crowd, she might have the 
supreme fact that she was attended by a real, live 
lord worked into the newspapers ; but no professional 
scribe was in sight. 

We are marrying Americans greatly on the other 
side just now ; it’s quite the thing. Some of the 
smartest women in London are Americans, I assure 
you.” 

^^Dear me. Lord Marchmont,” said the Lady 
Alicia, coming up and catching the words, you say 
that just as if you were talking of the importation 
of the American hog.” 

It’s a matter of business,” muttered young Dil- 
lon, who was with her. 

^^A matter of reason,” she corrected. “Americans 
when they become rich find their own country so 
frightfully dull that they like to live abroad ; and it 
pays a girl to marry a title, and a good one. She 
can go into dinner before anybody else, if it is a 
remarkably good one,” added Lady Alicia, with a 
laugh. “ You, my dear friend, couldn’t marry me,” 
she said, with a touch of malice, “ though I am sure 
you would prefer to marry in your own caste. I’m 
poor, you know.” 

Lord Marchmont looked uncomfortable, Mrs. 
Sherwood wondered at the Lady Alicia’s frankness, 
and Mrs. Vavasour, who was standing in a corner 
waiting for a cab, cried out : 


A MAERIAGE OF KEASON. 


157 


Dear me, if these broken-down English continue 
to swarm into Philadelphia, there will be no living 
here.’^ 

As Mrs. Vavasour had great carrying power in 
her voice, there was an uncomfortable silence. When 
Katharine and Mrs. Sherwood had been helped into 
their carriage, Wirt and Lord Marchmont stood for 
a moment on the sidewalk, and Mrs. Sherwood heard 
the Englishman ask : 

Who did you say that girl was ? 

Miss O’Conor.^^ 

I am deucedly obliged for the introduction, old 
man. She’s the sort of girl I admire. Rich ? ” 

The carriage drove olf, and a new idea took pos- 
session of Mrs. Sherwood. Why should not Katha- 
rine marry Lord Marchmont? This would be a 
better match than the Percival one. To be sure, she 
had heard discreditable stories about the young Eng- 
lishman, — he was poor, a fortune-hunter. But Mr. 
Sherwood could be induced to make a good settlement 
on Katharine if she should marry a lord, and then 
think of the delight of alluding to my niece. Lady 
Marchmont ! ” It would be pleasant, too, to leave 
Kenwood and live in England. The Percivals were 
well enough if one stayed in Philadelphia ; but if one 
wanted a broader horizon. Lord Marchmont was the 
man. Mrs. Sherwood opened the campaign at once. 

don’t think Wirt Percival is as handsome as 
Lord Marchmont ; the Englishman is very pleasant, 
— much more manner than Percival.” 


158 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


I did not notice/’ said Katharine, in whose head 
the music was murmuring still. I fancy it would 
be very hard' for you to give up the opera and all 
the other luxuries, aunt.” 

Of course it would,” said Mrs. Sherwood, 
sharply. What are you thinking of, child ? Who’s 
talking of giving up luxuries?” 

You know you said that uncle was involved — ” 

So I did ; but I said that you might save him 
by — by — by making a good marriage.” 

Mrs. Sherwood was vexed; she was a diplomat 
foiled; she had told her lie somewhat too prema- 
turely. Suppose that foolish, headstrong, sentimen- 
tal girl should persist in marrying Wirt Percival 
when Lord Marchmont might be caught, she groaned 
softly. 

Do you know, Katharine,” she said, I fancy 
Wirt admires Lady Alicia.” 

Does he ? ” said Katharine, with a little laugh. 

If he does, I wish he would tell her so and let me 
alone ! ” 

What a strange girl ! Who could understand 
her? She was willing apparently to marry Per- 
cival to save her uncle, and yet glad to throw 
him over to the Lady Alicia and let her uncle 
go to ruin. 

^^But you’ll marry Wirt, of course, if he asks 
you,” said the diplomatist, forgetting her plots in 
her curiosity. 

Katharine raised her head proudly. 


A MAERIAGE OF REASON. 


159 


will never marry anybody who is not one 
with me in religion/^ she said firmly. 

Not to save your uncle ? 

I shall not need to marry Wirt Percival to save 
my uncle. I have another plan. I know that, in 
his heart, he would rather marry Biddy.’’ 

^^What do you mean?” exclaimed Mrs. Sher- 
wood. A plan? What plan can a girl like you 
have ? ” 

“We shall see,” answered Katharine, smiling 
behind her fan. 

There was a crush of carriages in front of the 
Broad-street station. Mrs. Sherwood’s made its way 
to the curbstone and stopped, for the theatre train to 
Kenwood was almost due. Mrs. Sherwood was too 
busy with her wraps to answer. Suddenly the door 
of the carriage was opened and a woman’s voice said : 

“ Miss O’Conor ? ” 

“ Yes,” answered Katharine, impulsively. 

A note was thrust into her hand. 

The door closed. Katharine caught a glimpse of 
a woman’s face. Where had she seen it before ? 

“ You will show me that note when we reach the 
train,” Mrs. Sherwood said, severely. 

“ Certainly,” answered Katharine, “ why not ? ” 

She opened it — it was merely a folded paper, and 
read : 

“You can help one who has suifered, and save 
yourself from future misery by coming to see Jane 
Mavrick at any time on Sunday or in the evening.” 


160 


A MAKRIAGE OF REASON. 


There followed an address which Katharine hastily 
memorized. 

When they reached the well-lighted car, Mrs. 
Sherwood asked for the note. She frowned, and tore 
it up. 

Absolutely,^^ she said, the lower class are be- 
coming too insolent. I suppose this is some dis- 
reputable relation of yours.^^ 

Katharine flushed, but said nothing. She had the 
address safe in her memory, and she determined to 
put the case in her uncle’s hands. 

What a sad world it was. Music, roses, glitter, 
rank, fashion — and death and misery lurking behind 
them ! What would life be, if there were no be- 
nignant Mother waiting to show, at the end of the 
vale of tears, the Blessed Vision of her Son. Katha- 
rine said her Rosary with a new fervor ; it was her 
anchor, her hope. 


CHAPTER Xy. 


Frankness. 


RS. SHERWOOD’S dinner party consisted 



J. \. of Wirt Percival, the Lady Alicia, Ferdi- 
nand Carey, Katharine, and Lord Marchmont. She 
had forgotten all about Katharine’s note in her in- 
terest in her new plan. Of course, she would have 
Lord Marchmont take her in to dinner. Percival 
would play host and take in the Lady Alicia, and 
Katharine and Ferdinand Carey would be together 
— a harmless combination. She could easily draw 
the young Englishman into talk about himself, tell 
stories of Mr. Sherwood’s wealth, and prepare the 
way for a proposal to Katharine. In the meantime, 
the Lady Alicia might make up with Wirt, who, 
Mrs. Sherwood confidently believed, did not know 
his own mind. Katharine O’Conor must be Lady 
Marchmont, if the two were separated on the day 
after their marriage. She had set her heart on this, 
and she would have it so. 

Katharine went down to the drawing-room with a 
heavy heart. There seemed to be some impending 
danger. She was somewhat cheered by the soft light 
and warmth of the room, which, for this occasion, 


161 


162 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


had been made a nest of roses of Mrs. Sherwood^s 
favorite yellow. Katharine was very simply dressed 
in some soft material, chosen by her aunt, with 
silver threads drawn through it. She was a contrast 
to the Lady Alicia, whose amber silk gown and 
heavy amber ornaments lacked the gracefulness of 
Katharine’s dress. Lord Marchmont noted the dif- 
ference at once, and the Lady Alicia felt it. 

Katharine was the last to come in. Mrs. Sher- 
wood gave her scrutinizing glance and frowned. 
Katharine had not put on the pearl necklace she had 
lent her, and she had neither fan nor nosegay — 
though her aunt had sent both to her room. Katha- 
rine had a dislike to the encumbering of her hands 
with trifles of that kind. 

^^How do you manage it?” said Lady Alicia, 
when she had kissed her. Y ou have the simplest 
gown on, and yet you contrive to make me feel over- 
dressed, though, I assure you, Kate Reilly made this 
frock.” 

It is beautiful,” said Katharine, sincerely. I 
must tell the truth, — I put this dress together myself. 
I did not like it when it came home.” 

Goodness gracious ! no wonder your aunt is 
frowning,” said Biddy, laughing. I don’t know 
how it is, — you Americans can wear anything grace- 
fully. I see Lord Marchmont’s here,” continued the 
quiet girl, taking a serious tone. He could not be 
invited to a decent house in Dublin ; he looks harm- 
less enough, but he has been dropped from his clubs 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


163 


everywhere, and there are a hundred unpleasant 
stories about him. And yet you people make much 
of him ! I really can’t understand why a title should 
make you all wild, — and some of you are nice enough 
to do without it.” 

Katharine looked at Lord Marchmont and pitied 
him. She could hardly believe that so young a man 
could have done anything very bad ; he looked gay 
and bright, too, though he had an air of dissipation. 

Don’t cultivate a desire to convert him,” whis- 
pered her friend, and I advise you to have as little 
to do with him as possible. He is a fortune-hunter.” 

At this moment, Mr. Sherwood’s butler announced 
that dinner was served. Katharine took Ferdinand 
Carey’s arm, and the dinner began. The girl, look- 
ing at the six people around the rose and fern covered 
table — for the flowers left very little of the table 
cloth exposed — could not realize that their thoughts 
were not as cheerful and innocent as hers. Every- 
body seemed happy ; she did not know that one of 
the indispensable requirements of a social education 
is that everybody should seem free from care when 
the dinner lights are lit and the roses strewn. Fer- 
dinand Carey spoke little at first, but the Lady 
Alicia and Percival made up for his silence, with the 
assistance of Lord Marchmont. They jabbered 
about people in London, until Mrs. Sherwood grew 
so delighted that she made the butler bring out some 
of her husband’s Madeira, — a wine which did not 
usually appear. She was almost happy; she had 


164 


A MAERIAGE OF REASON. 


found her place at last. How times had changed 
since she had stood behind her father’s counter in 
days gone by ! Who could have predicted that she 
would have sat at her own table, faultless in every 
particular, and heard a peer’s son and an Irish earl’s 
daughter include her in their conversation, as if she 
knew Lady de Gray and all the other smart people 
in London. Not long ago she had carried her own 
market basket home, with the celery and the fowl’s 
legs sticking out, and she had been rather proud of 
it, — for her fowl and her celery were the best to be 
had in Second Street market. Then she had thought 
respectfully of such people as the Percivals, — not 
only respectfully, but with awe. But here she was 
manoeuvring to reject young Wirt Percival, that her 
niece might marry Lord Marchmont, who knew the 
Prince of Wales and who had a hundred familiar 
anecdotes about lords and ladies of every degree ! 
Surely the Sherwoods had gone up in the world, — 
but how glad she was that her husband was not at 
home to spoil her plans ! 

She looked at Katharine very kindly now, in spite 
of the changes which that young woman had seen fit 
to make in her dress. She felt thankful that a con- 
vent education had reduced her niece to such docility. 
After all, she thought, there must be something in 
an education which makes a girl not only attractive 
to well-bred people, but keeps her so plastic that she 
can be moved about like a pawn on a chess-board. 
How lovely it was to be able to use this young life 


A MAERIAGE OF EEASON. 


165 


to further her own social advancement, Mrs. Sher- 
wood thought. It was natural that a woman of her 
kind should entirely misunderstand a woman whose 
standards were such as Katharine’s, — standards of 
the most exact truth. Truth ” had been the watch- 
word of Mother Ursula ; it was Katharine’s. More- 
over, Katharine had been taught to believe that there 
was much good in human nature; Mrs. Sherwood 
distrusted its existence. 

It was arranged that coffee should be served in 
the little conservatory, for Mrs. Sherwood was very 
proud of her palms, which had been arranged in 
thick groups about a choice collection of orchids. 

“ The funniest thing happened in London one 
night at a dinner,” said Lord Marchmont, when the 
group had made itself comfortable and picturesque 
in the softly-lighted conservatory. An American 
was declaiming against the extravagance of the Eng- 
lish aristocracy, and he wound up his list of horrors 
by saying, ^ and these people actually eat orchids at 
five hundred dollars apiece ! ’ ” 

Everybody, except Katharine, laughed. 

I suppose the fellow meant artichokes,” said 
Wirt. 

He meant what he said,” returned Lord March- 
mont. Americans are so frightfully ignorant of 
things of that kind.” 

Katharine, who had stood up to examine a mag- 
nificent purple and gold orchid, for which her uncle 
had paid a fabulous sum, turned hastily — 

12 


166 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


Don’t you think that you are too hard on 
Americans ? ” she asked, smiling. “ Or is it that 
you expect every American you meet to be a scholar 
and gentleman, and when they prove otherwise yon 
are disappointed.” 

Lord Marchmont did not answer. Ferdinand 
Carey laughed. What would this girl say next? 
It was refreshing to find one woman who was not 
an Anglomaniac. She had spoken very gently, but 
she evidently waited for an answer. 

Oh, you know,” said Lord Marchmont, after a 
pause, during which even the Lady Alicia declined 
to help him, Americans are Americans, don’t you 
know — and not quite up in civilization — that is, 
neWj you know — ” 

Katharine looked at him intently, and she made 
a striking picture in her white gown, with a back- 
ground of palms; she was interested, and therefore 
not at all timid. 

I never heard that we were not civilized, and I 
think you are mistaken. Mother Ursula — ” 

‘^Always Mother Ursula,” murmured Mrs. Sher- 
wood, with a sneer. 

— always said that Americans, when they are 
cultivated, have more tact and taste than any other 
people in the world.” 

But so few are cultivated,” said the Lady Alicia. 

I assure you one seldom sees an American at the 
castle, though they tell me there are crowds of 
second-rate ones at the Lord Mayor s.” 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


167 


You ought to stand up for Americans, Biddy/’ 
said Katharine, reproachfully, when you remember 
all that America has done for Ireland.” 

Done for Ireland ! ” cried the Lady Alicia, 
indignantly. ‘‘ I don’t know what America has 
done for Ireland, except to keep up the Land 
League and to help the tenants steal our rents.” 

^‘America has given many of you a refuge — many 
of us, I may say,” said Katharine, for my father 
took advantage of it. If I were not half an Irish 
girl, it might seem vulgar for me to remind you of 
the gratitude the Irish owe America. As it is, I 
think I may say that whenever Ireland needed help, 
America opened her hands most generously.” 

The Lady Alicia fanned herself violently. 

‘^Americans are generally upstarts,” she said; 

and in Dublin we consider that people who leave 
Ireland for America are either paupers or queer.” 

Katharine turned to her flowers. For a moment 
Ferdinand Carey wished that Mrs. Vavasour was 
present ; she would doubtless have spiked the Lady 
Alicia’s guns with a glance which would have put 
that noblewoman at once among the queer.” 

“ I am glad to be the daughter of a man whom 
your Dublin people call a ^ pauper ’ or ^ queer.’ I 
am happy to be called an American,” said Katharine. 

Oh, your father was a gentleman,” began Biddy. 

He was my mother’s — ” 

Mrs. Sherwood interrupted ; she disapproved of 
this conversation. It put Lord Marchmont in an 


168 


A MAERIAGE OF REASON. 


unpleasant position, and it would probably drive 
him away from Katharine. 

Katharine walked slowly to a large, deep window, 
separated from the rest of the conservatory by a thick 
screen of fern palms. Much to her vexation, Mrs. 
Sherwood saw Wirt Percival follow her. She could 
hear the murmur of their voices, but she could not 
leave Lord Marchmont, who was explaining to her 
the etiquette of an English house party. Carey and 
Lady Alicia were looking at tlie orchids and filling 
and refilling their little golden cups with coffee many 
times, — for they were both lovers of this Arabian 
beverage. If Mrs. Sherwood could have heard what 
was said behind the palms, she would have left Lord 
Marchmont to finish his talk in monologue. 

You were not in earnest the other night when 
you refused to marry me,^^ Wirt Percival said. 
^^Or, rather, perhaps you thought I was not in 
earnest enough. The moment I heard you sing I 
knew you were the one woman I loved.’’ 

I am anxious to talk to you,” said Katharine, 
with a frankness that amazed him. But not about 
that. Love founded on a song will cease with the 
song. If I should lose my voice, what kind of a 
husband would you make? No. No. No. If I 
should marry a man outside of the Church, I should 
be wretched and make him wretched. For my sake 
— for my soul’s sake — I could not marry you, even,” 
Katharine added, with a smile, if I had fallen in 
love with your singing.” 


A MAERIAGE OF REASON. 


169 


Katharine wondered at her own ease in saying 
these things; where was the timidity of her first 
entrance into society now ? She felt that she ought 
to say what she meant as well as she could. 

You are too scrupulous, — people keep religion 
in the background nowadays. I’m sure half the 
people in town don’t know' whether my aunt goes to 
the Cathedral or to Trinity. I know that you are 
too sensible to believe that I am dying for love of 
you, — but I do like you better than any girl I have 
ever seen, — and I am sure that, if we were engaged, 
we might learn to love each other as devoutly as — 
as — as anybody.” 

Wirt was frank in his turn, and much in earnest. 

I should have no objection to going to church 
with you, at High Mass; you know, six o’clock 
wouldn’t suit me at all. And in time — who knows ? 
— I might learn to believe myself. But at present 
I can’t except any form of Christianity. We could 
both be tolerant. Reason can make everything 
right.” 

Kot that which is unreasonable,” said Katharine. 

The moonlight came in through the window, 
sublimating Katharine’s profile and color, and in- 
tensifying the purity of her expression. Percival 
admired her more and more ; he was not in love, 
but he felt that he might be. He had an uneasy 
idea that Mrs. Sherwood wanted to get rid of him 
in favor of Lord Marchmont, and he knew that the 
latter had begun to think of Katharine. The color 


170 


A MAERIAGE OF REASON. 


rose to his cheeks as he thought of such a sacrifice, 
for he knew March months reputation as a worthless, 
idle, and corrupt creature. 

Let us be engaged,” he said, taking Katharine’s 
hand. She drew it away. 

^^No,” she answered. 

I will do anything you ask, — anything ; I will 
even go through your Catholic forms.” 

It would only be going through ‘ forms,’ ” she 
said, with a sigh. Religion is vital ; it is more 
than ^ forms.’ There is one object to gain which I 
might become your wife if I did not value my Faith 
and freedom more than life, and that I can gain 
without what would mean misery to us both.” 

He raised his hand as if in protest. 

“Yes, misery,” she repeated. “I have thought 
often with a shudder of the horror of being an 
essential part of a life which knew not my God — 
my Lord.” 

Percival looked at her with a new sense of respect, 
perhaps there were things in life which meant more 
than mere living and enjoying from day to day. 

“ I could like you,” she continued, “ you are honest 
and worthy of trust.” 

He made a slight bow. 

“ And you like me because other people seem to 
like me.” 

“ Because,” he said, with another bow, “ you are 
the most distinguished woman I have ever met.” 

They both laughed. 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


171 


I am a poor Romeo/^ he said. ^^This is not 
the way they make love in novels — though we have 
the palms and the moonlight.^’ 

We are friends, not lovers. May I ask you to 
save my uncle she asked, hearing a rustle, and 
anxious to gain her object. 

Percival stared at her. 

Save your uncle ! Do you mean Mr. Sherwood ? 
Save him ? 

He is in your power, — he has lost everything, — 
he will be a ruined man unless you arrange matters ; 
you know what I mean. Oh, do help him ! 

Katharine looked at him imploringly. 

I don’t understand,” he said, I really don’t. 
But I will do what I can — I am astonished — ” 

Katharine ! ” 

It was Mrs. Sherwood’s voice. As a chaperon 
with a conscience, she felt herself obliged to interfere. 
Katharine looked at Percival, asking a question with 
her eyes. He nodded. Thank you,” she said, as 
Mrs. Sherwood parted the palm branches. 

Katharine drew her bewildered aunt towards her 
and whispered : 

Oh, aunt, I am so happy ! ” 

“You haven’t accepted him?” Mrs. Sherwood 
cried, frowning. 

“Oh, no,” exclaimed Katharine, radiantly, “but 
he has promised to help uncle.” 

Mrs. Sherwood stood as one transfixed ; Katharine 
left her, before she could speak, to join Biddy. Per- 


172 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


cival had left the window. Mrs. Sherwood went 
behind the palm-screen and stood in the moonlight 
composing her nerves. What did that idiot of a 
girl mean ? A horrible suspicion crept into her 
mind. It was confirmed in a few minutes. 

You’ve been monopolizing that O’Conor girl,” 
she heard Lord March mont’s voice saying. You 
ought to have given me a chance, — her aunt says 
she will be a millionaire, — and she’s c/wc.” 

I may as well kill your hopes at once, March- 
mont,” answered Percival, dryly. I have later 
news; she has just told me that her uncle is a beg- 
gar. We go fast in America.” 

Oh,” said Lord Marchmont, thank you, — that 
lets me out.” 

Mrs. Sherwood clasped her hands ; then, in the 
most unladylike manner, she shook her fist at an 
invisible person. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


A Mystery. 


ORD MARCHMONT did not linger long in 



Philadelphia ; he went off to New York in 
search of an heiress, and Mrs. Sherwood saw his 
card, with P. P. on it in genuine grief. It 
was impossible for her to scold Katharine for tell- 
ing Wirt Percival what she believed to be the truth. 
Her next anxiety was to prevent the lie from spread- 
ing further. Mrs. Sherwood knew by experience 
that, when a lie starts, no earthly creature can tell 
where it will cease its peregrinations or what new 
forms it will take. 

Katharine had defeated her, not by intrigue, but 
by simplicity. She acknowledged it — Wirt Percival 
had been rejected, and Lord March mont frightened 
off. She said to herself that if she could only com- 
mand some good introductions in England, she 
would shake the dust of Philadelphia from her feet 
and try to settle Katharine there. She reflected that 
no doubt there were certain young Catholic baronets, 
perhaps even peers, in want of money, who might 
be induced to propose to Katharine. She had heard 
that Lord Beaumont was a Catholic, but she had 


173 


174 


A MAKRIAGE OF REASON. 


also heard that he was married. She shut her lips 
tightly and made a vow that, since Katharine would 
not make a marriage of reason with her eyes open, 
she must be deluded into one. Since she had enter- 
tained a live Lord — though his title was only such 
by courtesy — she despised all the Wirt Percivals, 
the Ferdinand Careys, the Rittenhouses, and all the 
personages of her own city. She knew that Lord 
Marchmont would not return — for in a few days 
after his departure the newspapers announced that 
he had led two cotillons with Miss Van Golden, of 
New York, and that he had very nearly completed 
his Text-book of American Slang, for which the 
young Lord had a natural liking. 

Mrs. Sherwood cursed fate. She was a child of 
the world, and had no consolation on this earth, 
except what fashion and her kind of social life gave 
her. She had gained the desire of her life; she 
was in society ; ’’ but she now hungered more 
than ever for higher fruit beyond. Much of this 
society was merely an imitation of the English ; 
now she wanted the real thing. She did not know 
of the quiet, cultivated, kindly people which made 
the really best ’’ society of her native city outside 
this whirl ; she did not know of them, for their 
names never appeared in the newspapers. And if 
she had met them, she would have cared as little 
for them as they for her. 

She must appear at the Assembly with Katharine 
and the Lady Alicia ; she must bind the Lady Alicia 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


175 


to her with hooks of steel/’ for in her she saw a 
possible means by which high-class English invita- 
tions could be obtained. For several days after her 
dinner-party Mrs. Sherwood gave herself up to 
diplomatizing.” If she had put the same ability 
to good account, she could have founded an orphan 
asylum and settled every detail of its management, 
but she frittered it away in a hundred plots for 
giving herself and Mr. Sherwood a mere temporary 
social importance. 

Katharine, in the meantime, had prayed a great 
deal and thought a great deal. Every morning she 
slipped out to Mass. She looked forward with great 
pleasure to the return of her uncle. She could now 
show how grateful she was to him. When Herr 
Teufelfisch came to practice with her, she asked him 
a hundred questions about the possibilities of teach- 
ing. He answered them briefly ; but ended by 
saying : 

Ach, teaching music is the life of a dog — you 
should sing in concert when you must earn your 
living.” 

Katharine cherished this piece of ungraciously 
given advice. She imagined herself putting roll 
after roll of bank notes into her uncle’s hand. How 
delightful it would be ! There would be no more 
tiresome talks and teas, no more long, ceremonious 
dinners. There would be a little house just outside 
the city, quiet and pretty, an early dinner, for which 
she would gather flowers and make the pudding, 


176 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


and, after that, Katharine would kiss her uncle and 
her aunt — but she was doubtful about this — and 
rush off to sing at a concert, returning with the 
usual roll of bank notes. She made up her mind 
that there should be always silver candlesticks on 
the table at dinner ; she was rather uncertain about 
other details. At this time she was as blithe as a 
bird ; it was a great relief for her to know that she 
might work, instead of marry. Marriage was away 
— far in the distance — and she longed earnestly for 
work. She wanted to do her best in the world, 
not to have things done for her. She carried the 
note from Jane Mavrick in her pocket, and many 
times tried to recall the face of the woman who had 
given it to her. She knew that it would be useless 
to speak of that episode to her aunt ; she must wait 
until her uncle should return. As she made out 
from a map of the city, the address would lead her 
far uptown. She did not know the city, and she 
was acquainted with nobody who could guide her. 
But she could wait, and she reflected that there 
might be more harm done by her wandering about 
the city in search of unknown persons than by re- 
fusing to act until her uncle should advise her. 

She had one trial of freedom, and she enjoyed it 
thoroughly. And she needed some enjoyment to 
make up for the fall of her castle in Spain. Mrs. 
Sherwood informed her one day, just as she had set- 
tled several important details in her life as a concert 
singer, that the affairs of Mr. Sherwood had miracu- 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


177 


lously improved, — there was no need now for Mr. 
Wirt PercivaPs assistance. 

“ Oh, dear ! ” said Katharine, I am so sorry — 
I thought — ” and then, brought to her senses by the 
disapproving look on her aunt^s face, she added, ^^It 
is fortunate.^^ 

But, nevertheless, she regretted with all her heart 
the disappearance of the visions of independence and 
of the details of a cottage life, including the silver 
candlesticks. Mrs. Sherwood was anxious that any 
rumor of her husband^s insolvency should be contra- 
dicted. She was not sure that Wirt Percival would 
not mention it to his aunt. In that case, Mrs. 
Y avasour would soon gain possession of the precious 
morsel. To counteract such gossip she announced in 
the papers — she had of late become very polite to 
the society reporters — that her dinner and cotil- 
lon for Katharine would be a thing of unusual 
splendor. 

Dear me ! ” she said, as she unfolded the papers, 
how these writing people do get hold of things. 
There is really no privacy nowadays. Listen to 
this — and Mrs. Sherwood read aloud : 

Mrs. Sherwood’s dinner and cotillon, to intro- 
duce her niece socially, will be the smartest event of 
the season. The fashionable folk are leaving Lenox, 
Tuxedo, and their country-houses to be in season for 
this event. Miss Katharine O’Conor, cousin of the 
Lady Alicia St. John, daughter of the Earl of 
Bolingbroke, is one of the beauties of the season. 


178 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


Their favors for the cotillon, imported from Paris, 
will consist of silver roses, silver scarf-pins, and 
examples of Neapolitan filagree work.’’ 

I must really write and ask that this thing be 
stopped,’’ continued Mrs. Sherwood, watching Katha- 
rine over the paper. It’s vulgar. — How stupid 
they are ! ” she answered with genuine feeling. This 
fellow has actually said that I am to have the Marine 
Band from Washington, when I wrote distinctly 
that it would be the Mandolin Orchestra — ” She 
paused, and colored slightly ; Katharine discreetly 
examined the tracery on her plate, and her aunt 
congratulated herself that her involuntary revelation 
had been unheard. Katharine, however, did not 
need enlightenment ; she had seen this same para- 
graph on Mrs. Sherwood’s desk when that lady had 
sent her upstairs for her smelling-salts the day 
before, and it was in her aunt’s handwriting. 

Mrs. Sherwood had to consider the matter of 
this great function carefully. The invitations alone 
would give her many days of anxiety. She deter- 
mined to cut ” relentlessly everybody who was not 
willing to be presented to Mrs. Percival, — no matter 
what their claims were. She would give something 
later, she resolved, to those second-rate people. She 
was terribly anxious to secure the Percivals, and she 
knew that it could only be done through Katharine’s 
influence. She had no fear of filling her rooms. She 
knew well that society would be glad to ask for 
invitations, after the announcement that Wirt Per- 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


179 


cival and Lord Marchmont had dined at her house, 
and that the Lady Alicia was a relative of Katha- 
rine. But if society came, and found that Mrs. 
Percival and one or two other women of her set 
were absent, it would be a tremendous blow at her 
prestige. 

I wish you would go into town this afternoon,’’ 
she said to Katharine. I am busy, and I hear 
that Mr. Percival is not well. It would be nice to 
call and ask about him ; he seems to like you. You 
can be driven down to the station, and then take a 
hansom from Broad street.” 

Oh, may I ? ” said Katharine ; I should like 
it. I am sure I can easily find the Percival house.” 

^^Of course, — and you might take six of the 
Baronne de Eothschild roses — dxy mind — six is all 
I can spare. You ought to wear your black tailor- 
made gown as a background to the flowers — and 
don’t run as if you were mad.” 

Katharine had bounced up from the table. 

Thank you, aunt.” 

You may go at once, if you like. I suppose 
Herr Teufelfisch does not come to-day.” 

^^No.” 

Katharine copied several letters for her aunt, and, 
fortified by a cup of coffee and a roll, went to the 
station. 

It was true that her dreams had been shattered 
by her aunt’s contradiction of her previous story of 
her uncle’s property. There would be no congenial 


180 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


work for her now, no pleasant sense of repaying her 
uncle for his kindness ; but, after all, who can re- 
member a vanished castle in Spain on a clear day, 
with the sun shining, a novel journey before one, 
and a bunch of the biggest roses ever seen sending 
up their perfume ? Katharine certainly looked very 
happy. She reached the Broad Street station in the 
serenest possible state of mind. She examined and 
admired the interior of that ideal station, sat in an 
unoccupied seat, and watched the grate fire with the 
air of a waiting traveller. The bustle around her 
delighted her. Here passed a young girl, with an 
alligator-skin bag and a little brother, just aroused 
to the fact that her train was about to start. There 
were three school-girls, with large portmanteaux, a 
mandolin, and a big box of candy, evidently late 
pupils for a boarding school. Near her was an 
old lady, neatly but poorly dressed, who wiped her 
eyes from time to time, and sat watching the clock. 
Katharine looked at her, and longed to ask her if 
she could be of use. But a certain shyness and 
delicacy prevented this. She saw a shining tear 
fall on the rusty black of the old lady’s dress. She 
started up from her seat and stood in front of the 
fire irresolutely. What was the matter? Perhaps 
this old lady was on her way to the bedside of a 
dying son? Perhaps she had just left a grave, and 
perhaps she was alone in the world. Katharine 
stood still with her magnificent roses clasped in her 
hands, wishing that she might ask a question of the 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


181 


sorrowful woman. But she had not the courage to 
intrude on a grief that seemed so sacred. She 
turned to go, with her eyes fixed on the white, 
wrinkled, but gentle face under the black bonnet. 
Then she remembered her roses. Surely there had 
never been seen such great and vivid roses as those 
in her hand, half-buried in green, polished leaves. 
Doubtless Mrs. Sherwood had intended that they 
should bring out exclamations of wonder from Mrs. 
Percival, and perhaps excite some envy. Of a dark 
pink, with close-set petals, each shaped like the shell 
of a heart, with glimpse of powdery gold centres and 
hints of richer red, they were indeed sumptuous. 
People stared as they passed at the slender girl, who 
seemed but a stem for a bright flower-face and this 
incomparable biinch of roses. The Baronne de 
Rothschild is not as exquisite as the tea-rose or the 
Marechale Niel ; sometimes, when full-blown, it, 
like the Jacqueminot, has an air of over-richness 
which seems vulgar. But these special roses were 
even sweeter than the American Beauties, and with- 
out that faded look that sometimes marks those fine 
flowers. Katharine^s roses were as vivid as a flash 
of pink flame, and their scent seemed to envelope 
her as in a cloud. 

She chose the largest of the roses, and walking to 
the old lady, dropped it in her lap as she passed. 
For an instant the tears were dried, — the weak blue 
eyes caught the look of interest on Katharine’s face, 
and then the shriveled hands caught up the great 
13 


182 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


rose, and the lonely woman kissed it. Katharine 
went away, feeling that a blessing rested on her. 

She had no thought of taking a hansom. Could 
she not walk? And were there not policemen to 
direct her ? She went slowly along her dear, de- 
lightful Chestnut Street. Was there any other 
street in all the world so beautiful ? Biddy boasted 
of Sackville Street, and said there was no place 
under Heaven like Dublin during the great horse- 
show. And Mr. Percival had praised Euclid Ave- 
nue, in Cleveland. And Lord Marchmont had said 
that the Strand was his ideal of a city place. And 
Mrs. Percival had declared for Fifth Avenue on 
Sunday at mid-day. Wirt Percival had mentioned 
with approval some Paris street, with its chairs and 
tables on the asphalt in the moonlight ; but Katha- 
rine said to herself that there could be no street in 
any city so pleasant as Chestnut Street on a clear 
morning. 

At Thirteenth Street, a church caught her eye. 
It was St. John’s. She turned up to it, and went 
in, as a matter of course. Katharine could always 
pray best when she was happy. She knelt in the 
incense-scented gloom and said her beads. Outside 
sounded the rumble of carts on the cobble-stones 
and the jingle of bells. Inside there was peace. 
She went to the altar railing and laid her five roses 
on the carpet in front of the altar of our Lady. 

When she had sufficiently enjoyed the novelty of 
the shop windows, she found her way to Walnut 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


183 


Street, and, taking a car, rode to Mrs. PercivaFs 
house. 

Mrs. Percival was having luncheon in her little 
study, as she called it ; but she ordered that Katha- 
rine should come to her. This study was lined with 
books all bound in white vellum, on ebony shelves, 
which ran around the room, almost to the ceiling. 
A yellow-covered divan, a writing-table, on which 
the luncheon was placed, a tall orange tree and some 
palms made up the furniture of this room. Katha- 
rine declined everything but a cup of tea. Mrs. 
Percival seemed in a soften eid mood. 

Have you come to tell me that you have changed 
your mind about Wirt ? she asked. 

No, indeed,’^ said Katharine, I have come to 
ask after your husband. My aunt said he was ill.” 

Your aunt ! ” repeated Mrs. Percival, with a 
curl of her lip. Mr. PercivaFs temper is ill, and 
he has gone out for a walk. To tell you the truth, 
your aunt is the cause of a little quarrel we had a 
few minutes ago. She announces a big rout of some 
kind in the papers this morning and I told Mr. 
Percival I wouldnT go. He insisted that we ought 
to be there for your sake ; so we disagreed, and he 
went out for a short walk ; he^s well enough for that 
now.” 

Oh, don^t bother about coming,” said Katharine, 
earnestly. I shall not mind, for those crowded 
affairs are very tiresome. I wish I were out of it 
myself ; I’m sure it’s much pleasanter to see you in 


184 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


this nice, little room. Don’t bother. There will 
be plenty of people there without you,” added 
Katharine, cheerfully, and my aunt will not mind 
after a minute or two.” 

Mrs. Percival gave Katharine a sharp glance. 
Did the girl mean to be impudent ? This was an 
unusual way of disposing of a social magnate who 
was in the habit of making or unmaking the result 
of assemblies by her presence or absence. 

Katharine was serenely unconscious, and Mrs. 
Percival saw it. 

I suppose you are right about Wirt. Mixed mar- 
riages are generally failures,” she said with a sigh. 

Katharine hastened to change the subject. Here 
was a chance to speak to a prudent women about 
the note she had received on the night of the opera. 
Mrs. Percival listened to her with' attention. She 
took up a small handscreen, and shaded her face 
while Katharine spoke. 

Jane Mavrick ! ” she exclaimed. Where ? — but 
let me see the note ! ” 

Katharine gave it to her. She read it, with the 
screen still held between her and her visitor. 

“ Let me keep this, my dear,” she said, in a low 
voice. And pay no more attention to it ; leave it 
to me ; if the woman is in want, I will take care of 
her. Promise not to go near her, — promise,” she 
said, anxiously. Oh, I will go to your aunt’s 
crush, if you will promise, — promise ; I am afraid I 
am not well to-day ! ” 


A MAKRIAGE OF REASON. 


185 


Of course I will promise,” answered Katharine, 
surprised by her excitement. I am sure my aunt 
will be pleased — ” 

I know — I will come, — tell her so ! And now, 
my dear, have another cup of tea, and forget Jane 
Mavrick ! ” 

Katharine could not forget so easily, with the 
remembrance of Mrs. PercivaPs excited manner 
before her. The talk drifted to many things ; but 
the last word Mrs. Percival said was : 

Leave Jane Mavrick to me ! ” 


CHAPTER XVII. 


<( 


But never doubt my love.” — Hamlet. 


RS. SHERWOOD was charmed by Katha- 



rine’s assurance that Mrs. Percival would 


not refuse her invitation. It was the pleasantest news 
she could have received. All she needed now was to 
induce Mrs. Percival to make a few calls with her on 
desirable people who ought to be invited, but whom 
she did not know. The affair must be a great success 
— the greatest success of the season, ,and Mrs. Sher- 
wood looked fondly on Katharine, whose arts seemed 
to be effective. 

I believe the girl is a Jesuit in disguise,” she 
said to herself, I never thought she would bring 
that hateful Mrs. Percival around. I know she 
wants to snub me.” 

Mr. Percival came back from his walk in a good 
humor. He found his wife waiting for him in the 
dining-room. She saw by the brightness of his eyes 
and his improved color that his walk had done him 
good. 

‘‘Well, my dear,” he said, “I hope you have 
regained your temper — or, rather, that you have 
regained control of it.” 


186 


A MAREIAGE OF REASON. 


187 


Nonsense/^ she said; my temper? Why, I 
have no temper. I have concluded to go to Mrs. 
Sherwood^s rout — if she asks me. There ! Isn’t 
that a concession ? ” 

I am reasonably grateful. I am glad for Katha- 
rine O’Conor’s sake. Do you know, I am more in 
love with that girl than ever ! ” 

Mrs. Percival laughed, though there was a cloud 
of anxiety on her face. 

^^So am I.” 

I wish something could be done for her,” said 
Mr. Percival, gallantly standing until his wife had 
taken her place at the table, and then begging her to 
pin the flower he found on his napkin to his lapel. 

Your manners have improved,” said his wife, 
smiling. “ You did not learn these petits soins in 
Duluth, — though long ago you were certainly the 
best behaved man I knew.” 

Well, I had a lesson to-day, — it was given un- 
consciously.” 

But what do you mean by doing something for 
Katharine O’Conor? It seems to me that with 
Marcus Sherwood’s money to back her, she doesn’t 
need our assistance.” 

Oh, money, — always money ! ” said Mr. Percival 
between the spoonfuls of his bisque of lobsters. 

You did not learn to talk of money that way 
in Duluth ! ” said Mrs. Percival, amused. 

^^I hate to think of Katharine’s wasting her life 
in the Sherwood woman’s atmosphere, with no duties 


188 


A MAREIAGE OF REASON. 


except the silly observances of little forms about eat- 
ing or drinking or wearing clothes,— with a horizon 
bounded by a dance and a dinner. There^s noble 
stuff in that girl.’’ 

But socially — ” began Mrs. Percival. 

Don’t make me lose my temper again,” growled 
Mr. Percival. Don’t. That sort of twaddle among 
people whose ancestors came here to make a living 
just like any other emigrants, although they were 
a few years ahead, makes me sick. It is only the 
aroma of this bisque that keeps me from swearing. 
What’s the matter with Katharine socially ? ” 

I have found out who she is. Her people lived 
down town in some impossible street; her father 
was a clerk or something, and she has not a cent, 
except what her uncle gives her ! ” 

She’s a gentlewoman and her people were gentle- 
folks, no matter where they lived. This question 
of drawing lines as to where people shall live is 
wretchedly provincial. I was brought up in a log 
cabin. We all washed our faces in one tin basin 
under the pump, — and there were ten of us. And 
there was just one small piece of rag carpet in the 
whole house. My mother’s hands were as rough as 
— as a laborer’s. She made the bread, she spun, 
she brewed, she washed — ” 

Oh, stop these horrors ! ” 

And she would do so still, if she were alive, — 
and by Jove ! I’d be proud of her and of her rough 
hands. Mine wouldn’t be so smooth, if she hadn’t 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


189 


taught me more than any school could. Come, 
let^s be honest ; didn’t your grandpapa sell second- 
hand — ” 

This is awful/’ said Mrs. Percival, blushing. 

The servants might hear.” 

Well, we don’t owe ’em anything, — and you may 
believe that they know more about our immediate 
ancestors than we ourselves do — more to their dis- 
credit. Keep up this aristocratic pretense to Mrs. 
Sherwood and her kind, if you like, my dear ; but 
not to me. I don’t like it, and I think even Phila- 
delphia is growing beyond it. It is too transparent.” 

Mrs, Percival did not answer. She felt a little 
tired of life; after all, there were a great many 
shams in her life. She wondered if she might not 
be more influential for the good of Mr. Percival, if 
she were like Katharine, honest in all things. 

Katharine was here to-day,” repeated Mrs. Per- 
cival, as Mr. Percival began to halve an orange. 
He had finished his dinner ; she might now intro- 
duce a really disagreeable subject. “ Wirt has the 
mitten, — she would not have him.” 

Sorry — but he’s not even a Christian in belief. 
The girl is right.” 

And, oh, my dear, — she^s in the city again ; — 
and we thought she was dead, — Wirt said so.” 

Do you mean — ” 

I mean Jenny Mavrick’s sister.” 

Turned up again ! ” cried Mr. Percival, irritably. 

Well, it’s his own fault. Why doesn’t he act like 


190 


A MARKIAGE OF REASON. 


a man? The women is his wife. He ought to 
acknowledge her openly before all the world. You 
don’t believe in divorces, nor do I, nor does 
he, I imagine; — then why doesn’t he face the 
music? ” 

It would be social ruin,” said Mrs. Percival ; 
the poor boy would have to isolate himself from 
everybody he knows. Nobody would call on his 
wife, and, consequently, he couldn’t go out anywhere. 
It would be horrible ! ” 

No more horrible — not as horrible — as the 
present state of affairs. You might call on his 
wife.” 

I ! ” exclaimed Mrs. Percival, looking in amaze- 
ment across the table. I ! Why, the woman was 
a shop-girl or something like that. The poor boy 
made a mistake; he married hastily, — and he re- 
pents at leisure.” 

'^But if your influence is worth anything, you 
ought to be able to avert the social ruin which would 
befall him here in Philadelphia if he acknowledges 
his wife.” 

There are some things a woman can’t do. I 
have never yet seen this woman. She is probably 
a shop-girl, with a superficial politeness, but a deep 
inward insolence, — presuming, without regard to the 
rules that govern social intercourse — an underbred 
creature. Of course I couldn’t expect people to take 
a person like that up. Fancy everybody calling on 
an ex-shop-girl.” 


A MAERIAGE OF REASON. 


191 


And for this reason he lets his wife live apart 
from him, giving out to us that she is dead, and 
keeping her existence a secret from the world in 
general ! And he calls himself a man ! 

Mr. Percival arose from the table, and walked 
heavily up and down the floor. 

I cannot see,’’ he said, standing in front of the 
grate, why a woman of your common sense cannot 
see that this attempt to conserve all sorts of artificial 
distinctions here must make us all laughed at. If 
this woman is vicious or vulgar in her manners, I 
can understand why you should avoid her. But, if 
you keep away from her — she is your relative now — 
just because she has been behind a counter, I say it 
is barbarous ! ” 

‘^Well, don’t yell so. The servants will hear 
you!” 

I don’t care if they do,” said Mr. Percival, not 
lowering his voice. Give me Duluth ! There 
people don’t draw these foolish lines. If a woman 
is womanly, nobody cares whether she was or is a 
dressmaker, a school-teacher, or anything honest.” 

‘‘ It’s different in the West. I was actually pre- 
sented at a reception in a small town there to a 
widow who baked and sold pies.” 

So was I ! And she was a charming woman, 
who educated her children by that means. I sup- 
pose you wouldn’t know her ! ” 

In Philadelphia, — no ! ” said Mrs. Percival. 

You’re a nice Christian ! ” 


192 


A MAEEIAGE OF EEASON. 


Christian ! ’’ exclaimed Mrs. Percival. You 
talk of Christianity — nobody knows what you be- 
lieve.” 

If I believed as much as you do, I should 
practise more ! ” 

Mrs. Percival put her handkerchief to her eyes. 

“ You will lose your temper, Percival,” she said, 

u j 

I saw a thing to-day that taught me a lesson,” 
interrupted her husband : I was in the Broad 
Street Station, in the hope of meeting that creature, 
Ferdinand, on his way up from Bolingbroke, when 
in came Katharine O’Conor, with her hands full of 
roses. It made me young again to see her, — but she 
didn’t see me. I watched her through the door of the 
waiting-room. After awhile she saw an old woman 
crying in a corner ; she looked at her — I could see 
pity in her face, — and finally dropped one of her 
roses — magnificent Baronne de Rothschilds they 
were — into the poor old woman’s lap ! ” 

Baronne de Rothschilds ! ” and Mrs. Percival, 
dropped her handkerchief Why, they’re selling 
for five dollars apiece, and there are not twenty-five 
in town, Sherwood says.” 

Sherwood ? ” 

I mean the florist.” 

Well, Katharine did not seem to think that the 
rose was too good for her old woman, — and you 
should have seen the old woman’s face after Katha- 
rine passed. It was for a moment free of care ; it 
was almost joyful.” 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


193 


Katharine is very extravagant/^ said Mrs. Per- 
cival, in an injured tone. “ I haven’t the slightest 
doubt that Mrs. Sherwood intended those flowers 
for me.” 

I believe that Katharine holds that nothing is 
too good for the poor. She went slowly along 
Chestnut Street, enjoying everything immensely, 
like a school-girl, and I strolled after her. It was 
interesting to watch her. She went into St. John’s 
Church, — and, for the first time, I entered the church. 
Upon my word, going in out of the daylight, I felt 
awfully impressed. She prayed for awhile, and then 
left those glorious roses in front of the altar. It 
reminded me of the scriptural story of the breaking 
of the box of ointment. She evidently thought that 
nothing was too good for the poor or religion. It 
was a lesson, — and I felt better for it until you 
disturbed me by your outrageously unchristian sen- 
timents. I suppose if Katharine O’Conor had 
happened to be behind Wanamaker’s counter, you 
would ‘ cut ’ her dead. How do we know but what 
our secret relative’s wife may be just that sort of 
girl ! It’s such nonsense, too, — the girl with the 
best pedigree in town is teaching music. I met 
her the other day. Her grandfather was a Mar- 
quis and her people are famous for good breed- 
ing and cleverness. You wouldn’t cut her would 
you ? ” 

She doesn’t go in for society, — she keeps out of 
it. She has dropped us, in fact, and we have allowed 


194 


A MARKIAGE OF REASON. 


ourselves to be dropped. She is a girl of good 
taste; she understands the situation — 

Which means that this charming girl, clever, 
well-bred, with more ^ birth ^ than anybody in Phila- 
delphia, is out of society because she is not rich ! — 
come, my dear, form a new society on a more 
Christian and intelligent basis, — I^m done with 
your vulgar and artificial nonsense.” 

Oh, you’re only — a man,” said Mrs. Percival, 
contemptuously. After that, her husband went to 
his study, and she rested her head on her hand and 
thought. 

That note of Jenny Mavrick’s worried her. She 
could easily guess why it had been sent to Katharine. 
The society ” paragraph in the papers had contained 
hints, — which Katharine never saw, — that she was 
closely attended by Ferdinand Carey, by Wirt Perci- 
val, and Lord March mont. These bits of advertising 
had been done by Mrs. Sherwood. No doubt Jane 
Mavrick had considered it her duty to send a warn- 
ing to Katharine, — which meant, of course, that 
the woman,” — as Mrs. Percival called her bitterly 
— was alive. 

What was to be done ? A divorce was impossible, 
— Mrs. Percival would never consent to that : to be 
sure the woman might be induced for a certain 
amount to disappear. As for accepting her hus- 
band’s suggestion and trying to bring about a recon- 
ciliation, that, she held to be out of the question. 
Mr. Percival had become Quixotic. She would not 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


195 


consult her confessor, — indeed Mrs. Percival only 
troubled him at Easter, — for she knew what he 
would say. Should she send for Ferdinand or 
Wirt in the morning ; — for something must be 
done. Mrs. Percival shuddered, as she thought of 
the possibility of some voracious reporter getting 
hold of the story. Oh, horror of horrors ! She read 
the headlines in her mind — 

Romance in Society. 

A Noted Leader of the German 
Discards his Wife. 

Luxury for One, Penury for the 
Other. 

Mrs. Percival Supports the Heartless 
Husband. 

And so forth. She went to her desk and wrote at 
once to Wirt. 

That young man at the same hour had finished 
rifling the orchid-house at Bolingbroke for Katha- 
rine’s benefit, and a box of flowers had been sent to 
her which made Mrs. Sherwood cry out in amaze- 
ment, and, on a paper, among the choicest orchids 
he had written, — See Hamlet’s billet to Ophelia, 
and believe it mine to you.” 

Katharine read this and began to be interested. 
Wirt Percival had some literary taste, after all, she 
thought. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


The Screens at Bolingbroke. 


I^ATHARINE had begun to be interested in 
Wirt Percival. Riches she valued little, 
having never known want ; social position she did 
not understand ; — the artificial things of this world 
were not dangerous to her. She was not of the earth, 
her chief danger lay in her own heart. An enthusi- 
astic girl often chooses for a husband the man that 
drinks to excess, against all the lessons of experi- 
ence ; he is so generous and noble-hearted when he 
is sober. Surely she can reform him — he has re- 
sisted the words of the priest, the grace of the 
Sacraments, the tears of his mother, the entreaties 
of his sister ; — but she — and only she — can reform 
him, and change a satyr to Hyperion ! And she 
rushes to a surer fate than does the Hindu widow 
to a funeral pyre. She is presumptuous, if you will, 
and she suffers. A woman may change utterly for 
the love of a man ; but few men — probably three in 
a thousand years — have changed entirely for the love 
of a woman. How many times must this be said 
in vain. There goes Castara, pale, worn, miserable, 
seeking her husband — who swore last spring to re- 


196 


A MAEEIAGE OF EEASON. 


197 


form for her sake — among the taverns of the city ; 
and here comes Iphigenia, passing and pitying her, 
who to-morrow will marry young Bibulous, in the 
belief that her influence will make a new man of 
him ! 

And Katharine began to dream of Wirt PercivaFs 
conversion. She bent over those splendid orchids — 
she did not like orchids, but they were symbols of 
her power over Wirt — and prayed that she might 
be the instrument of his conversion. He was cer- 
tainly the most interesting man she had met, except 
young Dillon, whom she would probably never 
meet again. 

Her aunt ceased to talk of marriage ; it was no 
longer held before her as a matter of compulsion, 
and her own thoughts dwelt on the possibility of 
converting the man whom she had rejected. In 
return for the orchids, she sent him her copy of 
Newman’s Apologia.” He could never resist that, 
she thought. The truth was, that Wirt was entirely 
incapable of reading ten pages of that book with 
comprehension. A novel by Ouida was much more 
in his line. He dipped into the Apologia,” had the 
thoughtfulness to pencil several passages, beautiful,” 
convincing,” and sent it back after an interval. 
He was sure that, if he persevered, he would win 
Katharine. He was not especially fond of her when 
she was away from him, but when in her presence 
he continually thought that she would make a per- 
fect mistress for Bolingbroke ; he saw her, in imagi- 
14 


198 


A MAEBIAGE OF FEASOK. 


nation, receiving guests, making tea in the soft glow 
of the firelight for the circle of distinguished people 
he would gather about him, and giving that one 
touch of feminine grace which was all his beautiful 
place needed. 

He gave his postponed driving-party one day just 
to show Bolingbroke to Katharine. She thought it 
compared unfavorably with her beloved convent. 
The Lady Alicia, was in raptures. 

And a coincidence ! she cried — my father’s 
place was called Bolingbroke before it was sold.” 

Then followed a discussion as to the merits of 
Wooten, the show place of the neighborhood, and 
Bolingbroke. But Ferdinand Carey showed a sketch 
of a colonial house at Mount Airy which Mrs. Sher- 
wood admired more than anything she had seen. 
As Lady Alicia knew both the English and the 
American places called Wooten, her opinion in favor 
of the American place and of this Bolingbroke, com- 
pared with her father’s estate, was received with 
applause by the Americans. Wirt Percival looked 
at her with new entrancement. He said to himself 
that, if she only knew how to dress as well as Ameri- 
can women, she would be very handsome. Mrs. 
Sherwood was the chaperon of the party, and she 
was attended by old Major Fitzgibbons, whose white 
hat and blue coat with brass buttons, were historic. 
He had managed a paper for many years, and was 
famous for his knowledge of the ins and outs of 
society. She was very fond of him because he could 


A MAREIAGE OF REASON. 


199 


get social ” paragraphs inserted almost everywhere. 
And, as Wirt’s Madeira was celebrated — the rem- 
nants of the famous Rittenhouse Madeira — she had 
asked for an invitation for the Major. 

While Mrs. Sherwood led this old gentleman — 
bristling with anecdotes — about the place, Wirt 
and Katharine and the Lady Alicia were looking 
at the curios which the master of Bolingbroke had 
so carefully collected. He was particularly proud 
of two large screens that flanked one of his fire- 
places. 

Look at the brocade,” he said. ^Hsn’t it rich? 
And the color ! Did you ever see such a gorgeous 
purple, and notice the way in which those golden 
fleurs-de-lis are embroidered. Five hundred years 
old, at least, and as fresh as if it were woven yes- 
terday ! ” 

The screens were mounted on heavy frames of 
carved ebony, and, as the fire glowed on them, 
they deserved all the praise Wirt could give them. 
Katharine examined them closely — 

Why,” she exclaimed, here is a cross with 
rays around it and a chalice worked in gold ! What 
curious ornaments for screens ! ” 

Oh, you know, they were stolen from a church 
in Seville ; I bought them while I was in Spain. 
They were vestments or copes or something. And 
over there is a carved censer that belonged to the 
same church.” 


200 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


Katharine raised her eyes. Between a bust of 
Buddha and a Benares vase, swung a brass censer 
filled with Japanese pastiles. She shrank back. 

Oh, Mr. Percival,’’ she said, how can you use 
sacred things in this way ? Those screens are made 
from vestments consecrated to the worship of God.’^ 
They are as beautiful here as they would be in 
a church,’’ said Percival, carelessly. And beauty 
is goodness.” 

He turned aside to conceal a smile at the dis- 
tressed look on Katharine’s face. 

Oh, Biddy, isn’t it dreadful ? ” 

Biddy, as a woman of the world, languidly as- 
sented that it was. Katharine had no more pleasure 
in Bolingbroke. Not the delicious luncheon, the 
wonderful conservatory, or the china, or the little 
silver boxes of marrons glac^ which Wirt had 
for the ladies, with the right monogram on each, 
made her forget the censer or the fragments of 
brocade. 

It was a clear, Indian summer afternoon, and 
they went back to town on the top of the brake, 
Katharine avoiding Wirt and talking to Ferdinand 
Carey. This gave the Major a paragraph for one 
of his society” columns, and, on paper, the ‘‘beauty 
of the season ” was transferred to Mr. Carey — Lord 
Marchmont being now in New York and the Lady 
Alicia supposed to be engaged to Mr. Wirt Percival. 

Biddy, as Katharine noticed, was in the best 
possible humor going home. And at the dinner, 


A MAKEIAGE OF REASON. 


201 


which the Major gave at a hostlery on Broad 
Street, that fashion sometimes favored, she was 
positively brilliant. Katharine came to the con- 
clusion that her friend must have heard good 
news. She did not know that Mrs. Percival had 
that day told her that Wirt was no longer a 
suitor of Katharine^s. 

The Lady Alicia had few friends. She had learned 
to love Katharine, for she was warm-hearted and 
loyal. She had a specially haunting fear, and this 
was that she should not be able to make a good 
marriage, — a marriage of reason. Rank without 
money, as she too well knew, was a delusion and a 
snare ; she had no money. In a few years she must 
be old, and settle down as a dependent on some re- 
luctant relative. She would not work, for she had 
been brought up to consider work as a degradation. 
Marriage was her only refuge, and so far Wirt Per- 
cival was the only available husband within sight. 
She felt that a marriage with the owner of Boling- 
broke would fulfil the most sanguine hopes of her 
American visit. 

Do you really like him ? ” the Marquise, n6e 
Miss Worth, had asked her. 

He is better than I expected,’’ she had answered. 

In Dublin we don’t expect much of Americans. 
If they are not vulgar and don’t speak too much 
through their noses, we are content.” 

The Marquise laughed ; it was useless to contend 
against Biddy’s prejudices. 


202 


A MAERIAGE OF REASON. 


^^Mr. Percival is not clever; but he is good- 
natured ; I think I could twist him around my 
finger.^’ 

My dear/’ said the Marquise, no man is good- 
natured unless he has his own way, — you have no 
idea how awful Georges can be, if he is crossed. 
But I must say that American husbands are more 
easily managed than any other kind,” continued the 
Marquise, with a sigh. Papa was always mamma’s 
slave, — always ! If I didn’t have all the money and 
Georges wasn’t so poor, he’d be a real tyrant.” The 
Lady Alicia sighed, too. If she had only a little 
money, she would never marry any man. Her 
father had been a tyrant, and she believed that all 
men, except perhaps Wirt Percival, were tyrants. 
She would have preferred to marry a Catholic, 
of course, even if he were a little tyrannical, — 
for a Catholic has something to be afraid of; 
but, as there were no eligible Catholics in the 
Worth set, she felt that she must marry Wirt, — 
if Katharine did not want him. Nothing would 
induce her to interfere with Kitty’s settlement in 
life, — nothing. 

Mrs. Sherwood had resolved that Katharine should 
keep Wirt Percival dangling about her, if possible, 
until Lord Marchmont or some other, more eligible, 
should appear. She was furious when Wirt laugh- 
ingly told her of the episode of the screens. She 
concluded to bring Katharine to her senses. No 
chance came until the day after the drive to Boling- 


A MARKIAGE OF REASON. 


203 


broke. Herr Teufelfisch had just left, and Katha- 
rine was trying a new song at the piano : — 

“ Fleur de ma terre ! Lune de mon del ! 

Coeur de mon cceur, O mon printemps ! ” 

Do you want to be an old maid ? suddenly 
asked her aunt. 

I beg pardon,’’ said Katharine, turning on the 
piano stool. 

I was about to say,” continued Mrs. Sherwood, 
raising her voice, that, if you want to be an old 
maid, you have chosen the right way. You showed 
your low, Irish superstition yesterday at Boling- 
broke, and now you devote your time to learning 
religious hymns in Latin.” 

Katharine stared, and then turned to the piano, 
to conceal a reprehensible giggle. 

^ Fleur de ma terre ’ is not a hymn, aunt, — it is 
only a little song.” 

“No matter what it is ! ” cried Mrs. Sherwood. 
“ I don’t approve of your superstitious notions. Y ou 
are out at six o’clock Mass every morning, giving a 
bad example to the servants.” 

Katharine faced her aunt, and, to save her life, 
she could not help smiling. It seemed such an odd 
way of giving bad example to the servants. The 
smile exasperated Mrs. Sherwood, though Katharine 
suppressed it at once. 

“ Do you think Wirt Percival was pleased yester- 
day by your words about his screens. I think you 


204 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


said he had been guilty of sacrilege or something 
like that, — Ssacrilege’ was the word you used, I 
believe.’^ 

didn’t say it,” answered Katharine, ‘^but I 
thought it.” 

Never mind what you thought. He understood 
you to say sacrilege. Do you think he liked it?” 

Katharine’s face flushed. 

I don’t care. If he bought stolen brocade from 
a church sacristy, I think he helped in a sacrilege ! ” 

‘^Do you call that ladylike language. Miss?” 
demanded Mrs. Sherwood. 

It is my language ! ” returned Katharine, with 
a flash of the eye, of which Mother Ursula would 
scarcely have approved. 

Correct it, then. Your manner is certainly not 
what I have a right to expect from a dependent in 
my house.” 

Katharine made no answer. She tried the treble 
part of her song. She was a dependent ; her aunt 
was right; she ought to have been more respectful. 

Her aunt, fearing for a moment that she had made 
Katharine defiant, was silent. She determined to 
bully the girl, now that she had not even spirit 
enough to reply to her taunt. 

You ought to have learned obedience and grati- 
tude in your convent,” she went on. You make 
no effort to please me, when you know that all the 
luxuries you enjoy are gifts from me.” 

Katharine started. It was true. 


A MAREIAGE OF REA.SON. 


205 


I ask one thing, — that you will hold your tongue 
about religion, and not discourage Wirt Percival. 
You do not seem to understand that your only hope 
for the future is a marriage that will somewhat re- 
pay me for the trouble I have taken with you. I 
say again that I am disappointed in convents. I 
have always understood that they make girls per- 
fectly docile and obedient. It’s your business to 
encourage Wirt Percival until perhaps a better 
opportunity occurs.” 

Katharine held her head very high. 

The lesson you are trying to teach me now is 
not to be learned in convents,” she said. There 
is nothing unwomanly taught there.” 

“Do you mean to say that I am unwomanly?” 
cried Mrs. Sherwood, making a gesture as if she 
would have liked to smite Katharine with her open 
hand. Her face flushed, the bangles at her wrist 
jingled. “ Do you mean to say that I am unwomanly 
because I look to the future ? It’s your business to 
do the best you can for yourself, — to settle yourself 
in life. Do you think that you are always to be or- 
namental, — sitting at a piano, singing idiotic German 
songs, or holding flowers at a dance? Am I work- 
ing my fingers to the bone trying to make you the 
fashion, that you may do nothing by way of return ? 
You might have caught Lord Marchmont, if you 
had not been such a fool ! ” 

Katharine had grown pale, but now the blood 
colored her face and neck ; she felt an impulse as 


206 


A MAERIAGE OF REASON. 


if to turn aside from the sight of something that 
shocked her. 

Aunt/^ she said, you cannot mean what you 
say, — you cannot ! My uncle surely didn’t — ” 

Your uncle expects you to do your duty.” 

But not that — not to — to catch — ” 

My words are too vulgar, are they?” demanded 
Mrs. Sherwood, losing her temper altogether. They 
shock your modesty ; but I’d like to know who’s to 
pay for your frocks, and all your luxuries? Your 
uncle will do it, if you make a good marriage ; but 
if you don’t, you’ll be simply an idle girl about the 
house ! ” 

Katharine’s impulse was to cry out that she 
would leave the house. Her aunt divined her 
thought. 

You’ll go away? No; you will not, my dear, 
— not when all the goods of this world are thrown 
at your feet, and you don’t have to work for them. 
Why, that gown you have on to-day cost your uncle 
a lot of money. When you come to your senses, 
and regain your temper, you can come to my room 
and talk things over. You can’t always live in a 
fool’s Paradise ! ” 

And Mrs. Sherwood was about to leave the room 
with a great jingling of bangles, when a servant 
pulled aside the portiere. He gave Mrs. Sherwood 
a note, the envelope of which bore Wirt Percival’s 
coat of arms, which made a labyrinth of quarterings. 
She tore it open. 


A MAREIAGE OF REASON. 


207 


Dear Mrs. Sherwood : Permit me to offer 
Miss O’Conor the screens and the censer she saw at 
Bolingbroke yesterday. I understand that they have 
some special religious association for her. I know 
you would object, if I offered them as a gift, — I 
merely ask that they shall be restored by her, if 
possible, to their original use. 

Yours sincerely, 

W. Wirt Percival.” 

It’s lucky you did not offend him,” said Mrs. 
Sherwood, giving Katharine the note. He has 
done this thing very delicately, I must say, though 
you did not deserve it. And those lovely carved 
frames ! They will suit the little tea-room ad- 
mirably ! ” 

And, mollified, she swept from the room. Katha- 
rine closed the piano. The sinking of the heart, the 
feeling of abasement with which she had listened to 
her aunt’s tirade, were gone. 

The tea-room !” she repeated. Then she called 
the servant. 

Was there a box with this note?” 

It has just come. Miss, — the men haven’t taken 
it out of the wagon yet.” 

‘^Tell them to take it to St. Clare’s Church at once, 
— I’ll write the address.” 

She remembered with irritation that she had not 
even a card of her own, — her name had so far been 
written on Mrs. Sherwood’s. She tore a leaf out of 


208 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


a memorandum book, and wrote to the priest at 
St. Clare’s : 

Dear Father : Please use these in the church. 
They belong to it ; I merely restore them ; I will 
explain to-morrow morning after Mass.” 

Looking out of the window, she had the satisfac- 
tion of seeing the wagon go off, laden with the screens. 
They would never adorn Mrs. Sherwood’s Japanese 
tea-room. 

If Katharine ever longed for the wings of a dove, 
it was at that moment. Oh, to be free ! — to be free ! 
Of what use was all this luxury, all this wealth, if 
sordidness and hardness and scorn existed with it. 
Nobody loved her except the nuns, and they were 
far away. Perhaps, after all, her best escape was 
to marry Wirt Percival, since her aunt said she 
could if she wanted to ; better him a thousand times 
than Lord Marchmont ; these were her thoughts. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


Ferdinand Carey. 

T O be alone when one is young is hard. Older 
folk get used to it. To be unloved, scorned, 
rejected, to have hard words hurled at one, is even 
harder in youth than in age. Katharine for a few 
brief days had been petted, made much of, deferred 
to. She did not know that she was to be the favorite 
of the season, but everybody around her did, for Mrs. 
Sherwood had artlessly worked the newspapers, 
and Mrs. Percival had praised Katharine everywhere; 
she was, in fact, a new flavor,^^ and even the musical 
people, who are proverbially caustic, approved of her, 
since Herr Teufelfisch concluded that she could sing. 
It happened that society had not had a new sensa- 
tion for some time, and it was quite willing to take 
up Katharine. 

After her interview with her aunt, Katharine was 
as near despair as any Christian girl could be. But 
the feeling of utter abasement lasted only for a half 
hour. Here was her rosary ; there was her statue of 
our Lady holding out the Child Jesus to her. After 
all, what were Mrs. Sherwood^s insults compared 
with the consolations she had. She was surrounded 

209 


210 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


by unalterable love, she was held in the hollow of 
God’s hands, and the storms might rage. She was 
a dependent, she knew — she had just been reminded 
of it ; but now was her time to remember that she 
was likewise a dependent on God. Mrs. Sherwood 
might insult ; but with faith and a clear conscience, 
Katharine felt that no insults could really touch her. 

Mrs. Sherwood believed that Katharine would 
suffer anything rather than give up the luxuries 
which surrounded her. She judged the girl by her- 
self. Wealth, luxury, social distinction supplied 
with Mrs. Sherwood the place of religion ; she had 
stifled all its inspirations long ago ; she was of 
the world worldly, and she imagined that inside 
the veneer of religion and simplicity there was in 
Katharine’s character an inordinate desire for the 
things she herself loved. She told herself with 
satisfaction that there need be no more concealments 
between her and her niece. She had been frank ; 
she had shown Katharine that if she owed her 
present social elevation to her, Katharine was as a 
mere beggar in her house. She knew well that 
Mr. Sherwood would have been disgusted with her 
assumption ; but he was out of the way, and by the 
time he should return Katharine and 'she would 
understand each other and be able to work together 
toward that glittering point, a foreign marriage, at 
the same time keeping Wirt Percival well in hand 
in case there should be ^^a slip between the cup and 
the lip,” 


A MAEEIAGE OF EEASON. 


211 


Unhappily for her plans, she did not know Katha- 
rine. Even Biddy, who had known her only a little 
while, and then mostly through correspondence, could 
have undeceived her. 

Katharine, lonely, crushed, despondent, said her 
beads, and then packed up all her cotillon favors to 
send to her little Cuban friend at school. Her heart 
went back in a great burst of love to the convent. 
She had not remembered all the kind ones there, 
and she was punished. She wrote to Mother Ursula 
a letter which made the kind nun shake her head 
and say, The thorns are beginning to pierce her.’’ 

Having finished her letter, she thought awhile. 
She would leave her uncle’s house at once. Her 
aunt had left her no resource. Her uncle — she 
could not think of him without affection — no doubt 
expected her to follow her aunt’s advice, since schem- 
ing and hypocrisy seemed to be the way in this world. 

But where could she go ? She had two hundred 
dollars of her own, and a few dresses — she could not 
take any of those fashionable gowns, the price of 
which her aunt had thrown in her face. She would 
leave all the recent gifts behind her and go out as 
she had come. After all, in the working world 
people made their own clothes, and frocks done by 
the favorite tailors of society would be of little use, 
since nobody would care especially for them. 

Her heart rose and sank at the prospect. She 
would make her own way ; she would be inde- 
pendent. She was not afraid of poverty, she had 


212 


A MAEEIAGE OF EEASON. 


seen how the sisters practised it at the convent ; she 
laughed when she thought how little she feared it, 
it needed so little to make her content. A few 
books, a little room, a warm cloak, a few coals in 
winter, and she could live. Katharine looked at 
her hands ; if they could not earn these things for 
her in the wide world, she would remain a ‘^de- 
pendent.’’ She laughed at the thought of failure. 
But her heart sank at the prospect of living among 
strangers, new people with peculiar notions, cold 
hearts, and suspicious eyes. Katharine shuddered 
as she saw the suspicious eyes of strangers in her 
imaginations. Katharine felt that she could endure 
hard work and frugal living, but that she wanted 
the sunshine of love and appreciation. She shrank 
from the thought of unkindness and suspicion. She 
thought of Wirt Percival. She might end it all by 
marrying him ; then she would be no longer de- 
pendent on her uncle and aunt. She did not dis- 
like him ; she might convert him, and she knew 
that he could be led to propose again by a smile or 
word from her. She knew just as well as if she 
had been a belle of many seasons that her uncle’s 
money had great weight with the people about her, 
and that even to Wirt Percival it had certain charms. 
Yes, she would leave the house. If he thought it 
worth while to follow her, to find her out, to love 
her as a penniless and friendless girl, she might 
accept him as her husband. 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


213 


I will never/^ she resolved, marry to avoid 
poverty. If I cannot earn my own living in 
some way, I would make a very poor wife,” she 
added. 

People would ^^cut” any woman who earned 
wages, — she had learned that from Mrs. Sherwood. 
The Percivals would pass her in the street without 
a look ; Biddy might pity her, but she too would 
be obliged by her caste to look down on the woman 
who worked for wages. She could never hope to 
meet any of the people she had met in society on 
terms of equality again. This conviction stung 
Katharine,, for she was very proud. 

She went to the little church with a sad heart. 
The priest was at home. She did not know him 
well^ but she knew that he was a priest — that was 
enough. She poured out her whole story to him. 
He was gentle and grave. He advised her to stay 
with her uncle and aunt for the present. 

Wait, at least,” he said, until your uncle re- 
turns ; you owe it to him. But, my child, suffer 
any hardship rather than marry a man not of your 
own faith.” 

Katharine went to confession after this. She 
would follow God’s will, no matter how hard it was. 

She went down to dinner and sat opposite to her 
aunt, trying to speak as if nothing had happened. 
Ferdinand Carey dropped in after dinner. He soon 
grew tired of Mrs. Sherwood’s chatter about social 
trifles and asked Katharine to sing. She assented, 
15 


214 


A MAKEIAGE OP KEASON. 


of course. Cardinal Newman’s Lead, Kindly 
Light,” lay on the music-rack. 

“Lead, Kindly Light, ’mid the encircling gloom. 

Lead thou me on I ” 

She sang well, but rather weariedly, wishing that 
she could escape to her room. Carey brightened up. 

The charm of that lovely hymn is wonderful. 
But you Catholics, — pardon me, — never sing it with 
as much feeling as non-Catholics.” 

“ There ! I told you,” murmured Mrs. Sherwood 
to herself, I knew the girl couldn’t sing.” 

Katharine read the last lines over again before 
she answered. 

And yet Cardinal Newman was a Catholic when 
he wrote it,” added Carey. 

“ Not quite,” said Katharine, “ he wanted to be 
in communion with the saints gone before, those 
^ angel faces ’ which he had ^ loved so long and lost 
awhile.’ I have often wondered why this hymn is 
not sung more in our own churches. But I under- 
stand it now. It is the song of one who waits and 
longs, not of one who is in the full light of the 
tabernacle.” 

The girl can talk,” said Carey to himself. He 
looked at the glowing wood-fire, at Katharine in 
her white gown just tinted with the color of the 
fire, at the books on the table, the music-sheets on 
the piano, and sighed. 


A MAREIAGE OF REASON. 


216 


Katharine raised her eyes to his. Why should 
he sigh ? Her heart was heavy enough, and she 
did not believe that the heart of any living creature 
could be as heavy. The expression on Ferdinand 
Carey’s face told her that he had his sorrow, too. 
His face changed instantly, as he caught her glance, 
into the usually suave expression he wore as a mask. 
Ah, there were many griefs in the world, no doubt ? 
But what could this strong man have to bear ? He 
was not a dependent ; he had not the problen^s that 
puzzled her to solve. 

If I were a man,” said Katharine, half-aloud, 
I would let nothing grieve me.” 

Carey heard what she intended only for the piano- 
rack. 

If you were a man,” he repeated, smiling. 

Katharine colored and hesitated. If I were a 
man,” she said, nothing would frighten me. I 
should face the world and delight in it. A strong 
man should never be unhappy.” 

Carey was amazed. Here was a woman so unused 
to the ways of society that she actually translated 
the expression on a man’s face into words. 

Ferdinand Carey was unhappy — more unhappy 
than Katharine had ever been, and let us hope, would 
ever be. Mrs. Sherwood had carefully written the 
menu for the next day’s dinner and had gone out 
with it. Carey had a sudden impulse to tell his 
sorrows to this girl, whose innocence and sympathy 
attracted him. She would not understand him, but 


216 


A MAREIAGE OF REASON. 


at any rate she would not scoff at him. He rose 
from his seat and went to the piano. She looked 
at him in her frank way. 

envy you, Miss O^Conor,^^ he said, ^Hhe luxury 
of confession. I have often envied my sister, Mrs. 
Percival, the consolation of pouring forth her sor- 
rows into a sympathetic ear, into the ear of one 
sworn to secrecy.’^ 

Confession isn’t a luxury,” said Katharine, it 
is a necessity. I am sure that I do not like to go to 
confession.” 

Why it is the one thing that would draw me 
into your church.” 

Katharine laughed. 

I find it hard to go to confession, — for I have 
sins to confess. One doesn’t go to confession merely 
to pour out one’s sorrows.” 

Sins ! ” repeated Carey. I fancied the world 
had wiped out sin. We don’t hear of it any more. 
Circumstances force us to do things. The unknow- 
able is responsible, not we ! ” 

He said this half lightly. 

You surely do not believe that,” she answered. 

Many people believe it. Ernest R6nan teaches it.” 

Renan ? Oh, you mean the man Pere Didon 
has answered in his Life of Our Lord.” 

The same. But I don’t believe that your Do- 
minican has answered him, — he is a man of genius.” 

And so is Pere Didon, and a man of learning 
too.” 


A MAERIAGE OF EEASON. 


217 


Carey smiled. 

^^Well, read his book. I will lend it to you. 
The Marquis sent me an early copy. I will send 
it to-morrow.” 

And you expect me to read a long, polemical 
book ! ” 

I presume that any man of sense would read 
both sides of an argument on such an important 
subject, if he had not made up his mind.” 

Thank you, I will read it,” he said. This 
convent-girl has more in her than I supposed,” he 
thought. I am unhappy. Miss O’Conor,” he said 
aloud, ^^and I should like to talk to you.” 

Katharine stopped the low melody she had been 
almost unconsciously playing while she talked. 
Carey bent forward, a question trembling on his 
lips. At that moment Mrs. Sherwood entered with 
a great rustling. She paused on the threshold and 
smiled in a sneering way : 

“ I can trust her to net the men and take care of her- 
self. She is flirting with Carey, now,” this woman, 
whose world could not rise above itself, thought. 

I am sorry,” Katharine said, hastily, “ but be- 
lieve me, Mr. Carey, our sorrows grow less after we 
have rooted out our sins. Oh, I don’t mean,” she 
began, seeing what her words might imply, I don’t 
mean — ” 

You mean to be kind. Miss O’Conor,” he said, 
gravely. Thank you.” And he asked Mrs. Sher- 
wood whether she had read Mr. Ward McAllister’s 
book. The line of talk changed at once. 


CHAPTER XX. 


Who? 


R. SHERWOOD did not come home. One 



IV of his orphans/^ his wife said sarcastically, 
was in trouble, and he neglected everything else 
as usual.’’ He was most attentive to the several 
wards in his care. Mrs. Sherwood and Katharine 
were polite to each other. There was a veiled con- 
tempt in Mrs. Sherwood’s politeness. She believed 
that she had Katharine under her thumb, and she 
despised her accordingly. 

She is as selfish as anybody — she can’t deceive 
me. But I’ll use her to the utmost socially. How 
lucky I am to be able to play such a card ! ” 

To add to her triumph. Lord Marchmont, with 
that delicacy which characterized certain travelling 
Britons, had contributed an article to a New York 
paper, in which he had described Katharine as the 
most distinguished young woman he had met. Mrs. 
Sherwood had kindly supplied her niece’s photo- 
graph and had the article reproduced in several 
Philadelphia papers. Katharine had no knowledge 
of this until it was too late, unfortunately. Mother 
Ursula, to whom somebody sent a marked copy of 


218 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


219 


the New York newspaper, wrote a severe and warn- 
ing letter to Katharine, and Katharine rushed off to 
the Lady Alicia for an explanation. 

I thought you knew all about it,” said Biddy ; 

I don^t think it^s a nice custom to print women’s 
pictures in the papers, but it’s the fashion in England, 
and I presume you Americans think nothing wrong 
that the English do.” 

^‘You are unjust to Americans, Biddy,” cried 
Katharine, blushing to her ears as her friend held 
out the papers. ‘^AU Americans are not like the 
few you have met in society. I am an American, 
and I hate such ^immodesty,’ as Mother Ursula 
justly calls this newspaper display.” 

^‘You have been well brought up,” answered 
Biddy, that makes a difference. And you have 
good blood in your veins. Most Americans like 
display. The Worth girls — but I must not criticise 
my hostesses.” 

Oh, dear, dear, what shall I do about it ? ” ex- 
claimed Katharine. Write to the editor?” 

Do, if you want more notoriety.” 

I don’t. Oh, I wish I could see Mother Ursula 
and say that I couldn’t help it.” 

“ You might tell her that every girl in your set 
would give all her pocket-money for Lord March- 
mont’s opinion of her good looks publicly expressed.” 

It must stop ! ” 

As you are in this mood, you had better stop 
certain paragraphs in the papers. There is one that 


220 


A MAREIAGE OF REASON. 


appeared this morning, for instance.^’ Biddy went 
to her desk and gave Katharine a paragraph which 
she had cut out of a morning journal. 

The rumor that Miss Katharine O’Conor, the 
heiress of Mr. Marcus Sherwood, is engaged to Mr. 
Wirt Percival is contradicted on good authority. 
It is presumed, therefore, that Lord Marchmont is 
in the field.” 

Tears came into Katharine’s eyes. 

This is an outrage, Biddy ! Who puts such in- 
solent things in the papers ? ” 

The Lady Alicia smiled and said : 

I fancy your aunt could tell.” - *• 

Do you think she knows ? ” 

^^Of course. You are very innocent, Kitty. Tell 
me ; are you really engaged to Wirt Percival ? ” 
How can you ask me such a question, Biddy ? 
You ought to know me better than anybody else.” 

It is too bad, Kit,” said the Irish girl, affection- 
ately, ^Hhat we have had such little time for in- 
timate talk. Since we’ve met we have been living 
in a whirl. There are many things in the old letters 
which I would like to ask you about. These letters 
of yours were always so kind and sweet, like a per- 
fume. Our life was very hard on the other side,” 
added the Lady Alicia with a sigh. Nobody has 
any idea how difficult it is to have rank and little 
money. Papa was always careworn, always grumb- 
ling. And we hadn’t a carriage or even a car some- 
times, and our credit wasn’t always good, for the 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


221 


rents don’t come in as they used to. I often wearied 
for some new land where people didn’t mind ; where 
one could carry a package in the street, if one wanted 
to, and where it didn’t matter whether one had a 
title or not. I thought from your letters that 
America was different; but I find it’s almost the 
same kind of life, — why, nobody is poor.” 

I know it is different. I assure you there are 
poor people in America, and no doubt nice rich ones, 
too — very different from all those we happen to 
know ! ” exclaimed Katharine, eagerly. 

I suppose there are poor people here, but I don’t 
want to know them. I might fall in love with one, 
you know, and an earl’s daughter with no dowry can’t 
marry a poor man, you know,” Lady Alicia said. 

Why not ? ” asked Katharine. An earl’s 
daughter is not different from any other woman, is 
she ? She has a heart, and a soul to save. I some- 
times think, Biddy, that you’d marry anybody that 
is rich.” 

I must,” said Biddy, shrugging her shoulders. 

Must f ” cried Katharine. Must ! You are a 
slave ! — a slave ! ” 

Perhaps I am, my dear. The conventions of 
my rank in life force me to marry a man with 
money. Imagine the Lady Alicia Bridget St. John 
opening the door for people who call to ask whether 
her husband the clerk is at home. Fancy ! ” 

^^Well, what of it,” asked Katharine sturdily, 
^4f you did it for the glory of God and made your 


222 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


husband happy? Mother Ursula said many times 
that one should marry only that man one could re- 
spect and love — ^ respect and love/ she said.’^ 

Oh, you don’t understand/’ said Biddy, sadly, 
am a slave; I was born one; I can’t help it. 
Your aunt was here, yesterday, asking all sorts of 
questions about your father and his family.” 

Let us go away,” said Katharine, taking her 
friend’s hand. Let us live simple, honest lives — ” 
As they did in the golden age,” interrupted the 
Lady Alicia, with a long sigh. ^^You shall be 
Rosalind, and I, Celia, and we will go into the 
Forest of Arden. Oh, my dear, you will not find 
a boudoir like this in your Forest of Arden.” 

The Lady Alicia looked around at the appoint- 
ments of the sitting room the amiable Worths had 
allotted to her. 

You will not find a Steinway like that, or a 
statuette like that, or hot-house roses, or a Louis 
Seize desk like that in the corner, or women who 
know how to make gowns like the one you have on. 
No, Kit, the Forest of Arden would not suit me ; 
and even if I met an Orlando, he would probably 
have to utilize his talent for boxing in the prize-ring. 
Nonsense, dear, dreams of youth ! ” 

Katharine closed her lips tight. 

‘‘lam not afraid of poverty ; I can work ; I hate 
lies and artifice ; I hate what you call ‘ society ; ’ I 
want to be free ; I don’t want to become frivolous ; 
I am not a dreamer. If my aunt has been guilty 


A MARRIAGE OP REASON. 


223 


of exhibiting me in public, as you say, I shall feel 
myself free to go out, to make my own way in the 
world. Many girls do it. We were not taught in 
the convent to be fine ladies.^^ 

You would make a charming shop-girl ! ” 

“ I would do my duty,’^ said Katharine, earnestly. 
“ I imagine, though, that after all the care the nuns 
— thanks to my uncle — have expended on me, that 
I may lead a freer life than the shop-girl leads. And 
even if I had to stand behind a counter all day, I 
should respect myself. Many gentlewomen do it. 
Let us go away together, let us not be ashamed of 
our poverty ; let us be free.^’ 

The prospect has temptations when J look into 
your face,^^ said the Lady Alicia, smiling. I would 
like to be free — that is, to be rich ; for only the rich 
are free. But I am too artificial for your Forest of 
Arden. Rosalind didn’t care whether people ate 
with their forks or not ; she hadn’t a taste for per- 
fumes, and dainty dishes and the right sort of per- 
fume in her carriage-cushions, and good music, and 
the Dublin horse-show, and the Castle balls. Ah, 
no. Kit ; I must marry a rich man, and soon, too. 
Are you really not engaged to Wirt Percival ? ” 

No ; haven’t I said so ? ” 

Girls often say — ” 

You mean girls in society; I am a woman.” 
Biddy laughed. 

What dignity ! If he asked you, would you 
marry him ? ” 


224 


A MAEEIAGE OF EEASON. 


Katharine hesitated. 

If he asked me — 

That is enough,” said the Lady Alicia, her brow 
clouding, you do like him.” 

Let me think,” said Katharine, looking gravely 
out of the window. No — yes. I like him because 
he is frank ; I don’t like him because he would be 
arrogant if he could ; he has no deep feelings ; he 
believes that because he is rich and Wirt Percival, 
everything ought to bend to him. No, I don’t like 
him ; but I fancy that, if he were a Catholic, I might 
marry him just to get away from my aunt.” 

Katharine put her hand hastily to her lips. Her 
friend pretended not to notice the slip. 

No,” said Katharine, after a short pause, I am 
wronging myself. I would stand behind a counter 
all day before I would marry Wirt Percival, with 
Bolingbroke and all his riches thrown in. No ; I 
will be free to make the best of myself, to save my 
soul. Biddy, I have thought a great deal about life. 
People think that the meditations of the Rosary are 
mere ^ pious exercises ’ which have nothing to do 
with our daily life. Why they have been almost 
daily bread to me. What lessons have I not learned 
from them ! Our Lady was a woman — the most 
blessed and purest of women ! She was free to 
choose, and she chose to be the Mother of Our 
Lord. She chose it; God left her free, and we love 
her because she accepted His will with her wilL A 
woman is not a mere toy of circumstances ; she has 


A MAREIAGE OF REASON. 


225 


her mission, which is not to sacrifice herself in order 
that she may live among hot-house roses and have 
luxuries.” 

^‘But all the good things of earth are bought 
with money,” said Biddy, interested, in spite of her 
cynicism. 

Are they ? Are my uncle and aunt in possession 
of the best things of life, though they are rich ? Is 
Mrs. Percival happy or content? Is Ferdinand 
Carey happy? Are the Marquis and Marquise 
happy, though she has his title and he has her 
wealth ? Our nuns, who were poor, were as happy 
as human creatures could be. If riches were neces- 
sary to us, God would give them to all the world. 
They are a power, but a pure and loving heart is a 
greater power, as prayer is greater than gold.” 

Biddy sighed again. 

Enough eloquence, my child ! What will you 
wear to-night? You will, no doubt, have something 
sumptuous for your coming-out party.” 

^^Oh, I hate it all.!” said Katharine. hate 
it all because — because — But I must not complain 
about my aunt.” 

I understand — she makes her gifts hard to take. 
But what will you wear ? ” 

^^A beautiful dress, with the silver and peach- 
blossoms my aunt has chosen for me arranged in a 
new way. It is beautiful. Kit,” added Katharine, 
with a spark of interest, ^^and there is the most 
graceful train, trimmed with white feathers.” 


226 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


There are no trains in Arden/’ said Biddy, with 
a twinkle in her eye. 

I like a train,” said Katharine, frankly. But 
a train is not much of life.” 

It will be the smartest function ever given in 
this set,” the Lady Alicia said. Your aunt has 
engaged Augustine for the supper, and rifled the 
florists. But you really don’t like Wirt Percival ? ” 

If I liked him, I should hesitate before I mar- 
ried him. I was a little doubtful, but I was afraid 
to face life and duty then ; I am not afraid now.” 

The Lady Alicia looked relieved ; she had made 
up her mind. She had gauged Percival’s depth, 
and she had only two weeks of her visit left : she 
must make her great stroke in a few days. She 
was sad ; she hated her own weakness ; she admired 
Katharine’s position, but she dared not imitate it. 
She was about to act against her conscience to avoid 
going back to Dublin and dependence. Free ! ” 
she said to herself, bitterly, free ! ” She might be 
free, if she did not prefer slavery to poverty. No, 
she would be a slave rather than be poor. And 
society on both sides of the water would have ap- 
plauded her decision. 

Katharine reached Kenwood about noon. The 
house was in a state of disorder, out of which was 
to come the most beautiful dinner and cotillon party 
ever given in Kenwood, or any place within miles. 
Mrs. Sherwood had been besieged with demands for 
cards from all the best people, many of whom she 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


227 


had never met. She was having bouillon in her 
room when Katharine came in. Things were going 
well; she was excited, but cheerful. She sent for 
her niece. 

Oh, my dear,’^ she said, dipping into a pile of 
notes by her side on the spindle-legged table, hardly 
a regret ! Everybody will be here ! And the florist 
has carried out a lovely idea of mine ! Each guest, 
whether in the German or nbt, is to have a bouquet 
of orchids with your crest done in the heraldic 
colors on an immense band of ribbon.” 

My crest ? ” said Katharine. 

The Lady Alicia told me all about it yesterday ; 
your father must have been quite a gentleman in the 
old country.” 

^^Aunt,” said Katharine, ^Gf you do anything 
so absurd, I shall stay in my room. I have been 
made ashamed by your — by the newspapers. I am a 
woman, and I have no right to a crest. My father 
may have cherished some remembrances of his 
family, and I always use his seal — Biddy knows 
that ; but surely you will not make it so ridiculous ! ” 
Katharine, beginning to cry, left the room. She 
would not — she could not endure this atmosphere 
any longer. 

There’s no doing anything with that girl ; she 
has no social perspective,” said Mrs. Sherwood ; 

she is like Mr. Sherwood. The crest shall appear, 
nevertheless. The stationer says that our coat-of- 
arms is a green shield with a man pendant, and the 


228 


A MAKEIAQE OF REASON. 


crest a bow and arrows with the motto, ^je prends 
mon bien oil je le trouve/ whatever that means ; he 
says we’re descended from Robin Hood, of Sher- 
wood. Thank Heaven she has sense enough to 
know on which side her bread is buttered, — and 
Lord Marchmont’s coming to-night ! ” 

By eight o’clock, the hour of dinner, Mrs. Sher- 
wood’s house was like a fairy palace. Half a hun- 
dred servants in green liveries stood about, ready to 
form in two lines under the long awning that ran 
down through the grounds to the gate-way the 
moment the guests for the cotillon should begin to 
arrive. Two of these servants, with powdered wigs 
and glittering buttons, stood at each side of the 
staircase as Katharine came down to the drawing- 
room. There was soft music, as of zithers, some- 
where ; she could not help uttering an exclamation 
of pleasure at the sight before her. With flowers, 
lights, mirrors, and hangings, the big hall had been 
transformed into a bower of beauty. 

Katharine looked well ; she had more color than 
usual, and there was a new light in her eyes. Her 
gown of white and silver and peach color, with its 
great train of lace and feathers, suited her admira- 
bly. As she reached the end of the staircase, one 
of the stately footmen gave her a note, which she 
took mechanically, thinking it was one of her 
aunt’s mysterious messages. She put it into the 
big nosegay she carried. Her aunt would prob- 
ably say what she had to say, and there was no 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


229 


time to read it, for Mr. and Mrs. Worth and the 
girls were entering. 

The dinner was brilliant ; Lord Marchmont took 
her in and was very attentive. Wirt Percival, who 
in the absence of Mr. Sherwood, took in the Lady 
Alicia, glanced towards her anxiously once or twice. 
Katharine did not speak much ; she was righteously 
indignant, for at every plate was a nosegay with that 
wretched crest painted on the white ribbon attached 
to it. 

He seems attentive,’’ she heard Percival whisper 
to her aunt in the drawing-room before they went 
in to dinner. I mean Lord Marchmont.” 

It is arranged,” answered her aunt, with her 
artificial smile. Lord Marchmont has asked my 
consent — in fact, many letters have passed ; the en- 
gagement will be announced to-morrow.” 

It was no wonder that Katharine answered Lord 
Marchmont in monosyllables. She felt every atten- 
tion as an insult — and he was very attentive, because 
Mrs. Sherwood had informed him by letter that 
Katharine would have a million (he had some 
difficulty in reducing it to pounds sterling), and 
that he had only to go in and win the lady, who 
was willing. 

When the oysters and soup had been served by 
the twenty servants who stood each behind the chair 
of a guest, and Mr. Percival had praised the sherry, 
Katharine began to forget her indignation and to 
see some humor in the situation. Wirt Percival had 
16 


230 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


evidently accepted the mitten with grace. Katha- 
rine heard Biddy say to him : 

must go away in a short time, and I shall 
never see you all again. I must go in two weeks. 
Lord Bolingbroke insists.^’ 

Wirt looked at the Lady Alicia and resolved to 
offer her the heart Katharine had refused. Boling- 
broke ! — to be the son-in-law of Lord Bolingbroke ! 
Yes, he could forget that Katharine was clever, 
pretty, rich, and good, for that ! 

Katharine’s spirits revived; she began to enjoy 
an mtHe of unknown but delicious substance ; she 
flashed repartees at Lord Marchmont ; her aunt 
looked at her and felt triumphant. Katharine, 
with a touch of malice, smiled back at her. Her 
aunt, forgetting her recently-acquired repose, actu- 
ally winked. 

After the grand flower figure of the cotillon. Lord 
Marchmont asked her to take a walk through the 
great corridor made by lighted and palm-decorated 
tents which radiated from the house. Katharine’s 
time had come. 

Lord Marchmont,” she said, I heard what 
my aunt said a moment ago. If I went with you, 
the newspapers might say we were engaged to be 
married ; and as neither you nor I care for that sort 
of publicity, I must decline.” 

She went up the stairs very quickly, her train 
gliding after her like a brilliant snake. Lord March- 
mont stood watching her. At the top she met 


A MAEKIAGE OF EEASON. 


231 


Biddy, who had only time to whisper, as the music 
for the next figure was beginning : 

Wirt has asked me and I have consented ; I am 
going to make a marriage of reason/^ 

And I am not ! 

Katharine went to her room. And Mrs. Sher- 
wood, thinking she was safe with Lord Marchmont, 
boldly announced that she would take a house in 
London for the next season ! Katharine threw down 
her bouquet and dropped into a chair. Surely, if 
she must live this way, life was not worth living. 
The note the footman had given her fell upon the 
carpet. She picked it up ; she read — 

Miss O’Conoe : 

I am sorry you did not come. Let me tell 
you, to save you future mortification, that the man 
you are engaged to is the husband of my sister. 

Maveick.^^ 

What did it mean? Who was it? Wirt Per- 
cival ? There were greater sorrows than hers. She 
put the paper into a drawer and went down in a 
subdued frame of mind to help her aunt say good- 
bye to the guests. 


CHAPTER XXI. 


Donna Quixota.’^ 

RS. SHERWOOD soon understood the po- 



sition of affairs. Katharine did not come 


down to the late breakfast. Her aunt thought that 
she remained upstairs through fear ; she smiled bit- 
terly and nursed her wrath. What did the girl 
mean by playing fast and loose in this way ? Wirt 
Percival had been permitted to engage himself to 
the Lady Alicia, and Lord Marchmont had been 
snubbed. Was there a Duke in prospect, that this 
penniless young creature should comport herself 
with so much arrogance? 

But Katharine was not afraid. She was not one 
of those who value peace so highly that they will 
sacrifice self-respect and principle for it. An un- 
pleasant interview, provided she felt blameless in 
conscience, had no terrors for her. Mrs. Sherwood 
did not know this; she looked forward in triumph 
towards the coming scene, and said to herself that 
she would force Katharine into compliance, send for 
Marchmont, and arrange the marriage on a reason- 
able basis, as they do in France. Katharine was not 


232 


A MAERIAGE OF REASON. 


233 


fool enough to give up her present advantages for a 
nonsensical prejudice. 

Katharine read over and over again the note she 
had received and, in comparison with its contents, 
her aunt’s wrath seemed a mere trifle. What did it 
mean ? The people who read the “ society ” columns 
no doubt believed that she was engaged to Wirt Per- 
cival or to Lord March mont. To which of them did 
the writer of the note point? Katharine was im- 
petuous enough at times, but she had been taught 
to be prudent where other people were involved. 
She knew that if she mentioned the subject either 
to her aunt or Mrs. Percival it would be no secret. 
She could not mention it to the Lady Alicia until 
she knew just what it meant. She wished ardently 
that her uncle were at home. She felt that she could 
trust him. She would wait awhile — haste is gener- 
ally a fault. She put away carefully her ball dress 
and arranged everything in her room in the most 
orderly manner. She packed her trunk and satchel, 
leaving out all the frocks and ornaments her aunt 
had given her. She would, at least, be prepared to 
end a struggle with no empty threat. She counted 
her money. She had three hundred dollars — given 
to her by her uncle at various times. She would 
take this and pay it back after a time, she said. 
She would not go away if she could help it, and, if 
she could not help it she would go away as quickly 
as possible. Where? Out in the world like any 
poor girl to earn her living. She would have to go 


234 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


without a chaperon ! The thought made her smile, 
although it did seem a difficulty at first. But she 
remembered that there were thousands of working 
girls in the city to whom her difficulty would seem 
the height of the ridiculous. 

She made a plan before luncheon, and descended 
to the table with composure. The meal, made up 
of odds and ends left from the dinner of the night 
before, was of unusual dimensions. 

Mrs. Sherwood smiled, and in a dulcet voice ten- 
derly inquired after Katharine’s health. Then she 
opened fire. 

You are sorry no doubt for your shameless con- 
duct to Lord March mont last night.” 

Mrs. Sherwood fixed her eyes on her niece with 
what she considered to be a potential look. 

I am not sorry,” said Katharine, in a decided 
voice. I heard your whisper last night, and I 
guessed the rest. I will not be handed to any man 
like a bale of goods.” 

Why did you encourage him ? ” 

‘'You encouraged him.” 

" Perhaps you have a Duke in prospect,” she 
sneered. 

“ I am sick of this kind of talk, aunt. You have 
neutralized your kindness by treating me as if I were 
a slave, to be sold for the price of your social ad- 
vancement. It is un-Christian, it is inhuman ! I 
will not marry anybody ! I will not, at any rate, 
make what you call a marriage of reason ! ” 


A MARRIAGE OP REASON. 


235 


“ Possibly you are in love with Ferdinand Carey. 
He was very, very attentive to you the other night, 
I observed — that is, I couldn^t help observing — 

Mrs. Sherwood paused ; Katharine started, but 
suppressed the reply that rose to her lips — this was 
the time for a Hail Mary. 

Of all things,^^ went on Mrs. Sherwood, I 
abhor a coquette — above all a flirt who has learned 
in a convent how to be demure and hypocritical.” 

Katharine raised her head and flashed a glance 
across at her aunt ; she put down her fork ; she 
could not eat her aunt’s food. She remembered the 
priest’s words ; she would endure as long as she 
could. She rose from the table, her eyes bright, 
her cheeks flushed. Mrs. Sherwood rose too, car- 
ried away by her pent-up auger. 

“You will give me your word to accept Lord 
Marchmont, if he asks you, or leave this house ! ” 
she said, pursuing her niece to the door. 

“ You threaten, aunt ; ” said Katharine, standing 
with the portiere in her hand, and looking back. 
“ If you knew me better, you would not threaten.” 

Mrs. Sherwood went back to the dining-room, 
angry and puzzled. But by the time the carriage 
came around to take her to the city, she had come 
to the conclusion that Katharine would be glad to 
accept 'her terms. 

Katharine went back to her room and meditated. 
She would do nothing hastily. It was plain to her 
that she could no longer stay in her aunt’s house 


236 


A MAREIAGE OP REASON. 


amid constant quarrels. She was sure that her uncle 
would not approve of her aunt’s course of action. 
But that was no relief to the present condition of 
alFairs. On his return it would only cause dissen- 
sions between her uncle and aunt. There was no 
place for her. She must go ! She had obeyed her 
confessor to the limits he had set for her. It was 
hard, but she was no worse off than thousands of 
girls; she could do her best and leave the rest to 
God. 

She ordered the butler to have her bag and trunk 
sent down to the station. That personage, who had 
lately been imported, had been trained to ask no 
questions and show no emotion. She found her 
luggage awaiting her when she went down to catch 
the half-past two o’clock train ; she had it checked 
to the Colonnade Hotel. Why should she disguise 
her goings in or comings out? As soon as she 
should be settled in a permanent place she would 
send her aunt her address and write to her uncle. 
It was a question of self-respect, she said to herself, 
not of pride. 

Once in the car, with her luggage checked, she 
felt that the great step had been taken ; her hedges 
were burned ; she was about to enter the whirl of 
the world, to leave the sheltered life which had been 
hers from infancy. Her heart beat a little faster 
than usual and her eyes dimmed, as she recalled the 
debt of gratitude she owed her uncle. The train 
had not started. Should she go back and wait until 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


237 


he should come home ? No ; that might be grate- 
ful, but it would be unkind, for assuredly it would 
cause dissensions between her uncle and aunt. After 
all, it was right that her aunt should decide on what 
terms a guest should remain in her house. A day 
might come when she would have a chance of show- 
ing her uncle that she was not ungrateful ; she would 
wait. 

Nevertheless it depressed her to think that there 
was not one in the household to say good-bye to her — 
and yet there was. She glanced out of the window 
just before the train started, and noticed that some- 
body was waving a great bunch of white roses. It 
was Peter McCready, the butler whom Mrs. Sher- 
wood had recently engaged. He was a short man, 
with a red nose, and twinkling eyes, and great 
dignity of deportment. He took oif his hat, and 
pushed the roses through the car window. 

^^The gardener told me to give you these, he 
says that you always take flowers with you when 
you’re going out, and as I was coming this way,” he 
added, remembering his dignity, I was glad to take 
them. They’re beauties ; he cut them for you before 
luncheon.” 

Almost involuntarily Katharine grasped the hand 
that held the roses. It was like a ray of light to 
see that there was one person in her uncle’s house 
who thought kindly of her. 

Good-bye, Peter,” she said, good-bye. And 
tell the gardener that I shall not forget his kind- 


238 


A MAEEIAGE OF EEASON. 


ness — I love flowers as much as he does, and say to 
him,” she added, with a smile, remembering a cer- 
tain controversy, ^^that I still believe that it is a 
great mistake to fumigate Catharine Mermet roses.” 

He will do it,” said the butler. You can’t 
change a Scotchman.” 

Good-bye — good-bye ! ” And the train moved 
out of the station. Peter would have liked to ask 
whether she would be long away or not. 

The house will be dull without her,” he mur- 
mured. 

Katharine buried her face in the nosegay of Bride 
roses and felt cheered. It must be indeed a sad 
time for her when roses could not cheer her. In a 
short time the brakeman called out Philadelphia,” 
and she walked through the station to Broad street. 
Life seemed a little darker to her than it had seemed 
the last time she had entered that station. A news- 
boy held his papers out to her ; she bought two, not 
because she wanted them, but because she was about 
to earn her living, and people who earned their liv- 
ing ought to help each other. She was tempted to 
take a hansom, but she remembered that henceforth 
she must not indulge in such luxuries ; she was a 
working girl now, and every cent would count. 
She walked to Chestnut Street, unencumbered except 
by the roses and the luggage checks she held ner- 
vously in her hand for fear of losing them. 

She had hardly turned the corner of Broad and 
Chestnut when a voice from the street hailed her. 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


239 


It was the Lady Alicia, in the Worth carriage. 
Katharine stopped and the coachman drove up to 
the sidewalk. 

I knew you at once by that bunch of roses. It 
was easy enough to guess who was hidden among 
them. Let me give you a lift. I am out calling 
with a stack of the Worth cards, besides my own. 
I have been praying at every door I came to that 
the people may not be at home. Where are you 
going ? ’’ 

Biddy seemed to be in excellent spirits ; her color 
was higher than usual, her white teeth gleamed in 
frequent smiles, and there was an air of robust health 
and satisfaction about her. 

Katharine hesitated. Why would people who 
prided themselves on their good breeding ask such 
direct questions ? 

“ I am not going far.” 

Let me give you a lift.” 

Katharine hesitated. 

Oh, come, get in — I want to talk to you. I’m 
so glad that I am settled at last. My father and 
^brothers will think it lovely to get me off their 
hands without the expense of a London season. So 
get in ! ” 

^^But I’m going only to the Colonnade Hotel,” 
said Katharine, ‘^and you have your calls to 
make. If you like, I’ll meet you in an hour 
at Blank’s — you know where they have those 
delicious ices.” 


240 


A MAERIAGE OF REASON. 


Katharine was anxious to get a little time for 
thought — to be away from everybody. 

^^Yes/^ said Biddy, ^^you Americans make the 
best in the world — which is about the only 
thing you do well. But I don’t want ices — I 
want to talk to you. Step in ; I’ll make a call 
or two, and then drive you for your call at the 
hotel. The Colonnade? Who that we know can 
possibly live there ? ” 

Katharine got into the carriage with as much 
bustle as possible to avoid answering this question. 

‘‘Wirt is really very nice,” began Biddy, “ he 
brought me a basket of ferns this morning, and we 
walked down Chestnut Street. The Marquise says 
that if you’re seen on the fashionable side of Chest- 
nut street at eleven in the morning with a man, 
people are justified in saying that you are engaged. 
Is that an American custom ? ” 

“ I don’t know,” said Katharine, listlessly. She 
did not belong in this comfortable carriage; she 
wanted to be in her place among those who walked. 

“He showed me some gorgeous things at the 
jewellers; he must be enormously rich ; and he seems^ 
generous. Do you know I think we shall get along 
quite well ! ” 

“ But about religion ? ” asked Katharine. “ You 
know Mr. Percival is at present an Agnostic.” 

A shade crossed the Lady Alicia’s face. 

“We shall let each other alone, my dear.” 

Katharine sighed. 


A MAKRIAGE OF REASON. 


241 


Here we are at the Colonnade, Biddy. I shall 
get out. Let me kiss you. Good-bye — good-bye ! 
I am going out of your world.” 

The Lady Alicia looked at her face, and held 
tight to her gown. 

“What is the matter, Kitty? What do you 
mean? You are not well.” 

“ Oh, yes, I am. But I want to say good-bye. 
To-morrow I will be no longer of your class : I 
shall work for my living ; I shall be only Katha- 
rine O^Conor the worker — ” 

“ What do you mean ? ” cried Biddy, in genuine 
alarm. “ You shall stay with me until I make sure 
that you are not crazy. Is your uncle ruined ? Has 
his house burned down ? Has your aunt been nasty 
to you? Drive on, John ! — drive on.” 

Katharine sank back in the seat. 

“ My aunt, — you may as well know the truth, 
Biddy, — has followed what she believes to be the 
code of society, and arranged a marriage of reason 
for me with Lord March mont.” 

“ He^s a scoundrel ! ” cried Lady Alicia. “ You 
can^t marry him — though, I must confess, he has 
prospects. He may be a duke some day when 
everybody in the way dies. He is a scoundrel,” 
said the Lady Alicia, with less energy, “ but he 
belongs to a great family, and, from the American 
point of view, you might do worse.” 

Katharine flashed a scornful glance at her friend. 


242 


A MAERIAGE OF REASON. 


“ From to-day I shall work for my bread. And, 
rather than marry that man or any man for mere 
worldly motives, I would — 

‘^Be an old maid,’^ interrupted Biddy with a laugh. 
. ‘‘Yes,’’ said Katharine, “I see no disgrace in 
that. It requires a very superior woman to be an 
old maid, without regrets and without bitterness. 
Besides, this life is not all. And, Biddy, I think 
it would be better for you to work, as I shall do, 
rather than marry a man so opposite to you in re- 
ligion as Mr. Wirt Percival.” 

“ Nonsense ! ” said Biddy. “ He saves me from 
dependence ; he gives me a carriage, diamonds, his 
city house, his country house — my papa will respect 
me now. A question of religion is nothing in mar- 
riage. He will have to keep his Agnosticism in 
the background. I’m more afraid of his American 
ways and prejudices. I admit that I don’t care 
about him — but he’s not half bad ; he likes my 
title, and I’ll keep the whip hand.” 

Katharine shook her head. 

“ I shall send you my address as soon as I get 
work — to-night I shall stay at the hotel.” 

Biddy protested, implored, entreated ; she begged 
Katharine to go home, to visit her at the Worth’s, 
to ask Mrs. Percival to take her in. 

“No,” Katharine said, “I must work.” 

The Lady Alicia shuddered. 

“ I would rather die than do what you are about 
to do.” 


A MAREIAGE OF REASON. 


243 


And I — Katharine began, but she mercifully 
suppressed the words. 

Katharine listened to all the arguments of her 
friend unmoved. The Lady Alicia had settled her- 
self in the carriage after a call during which she had 
heard Katharine praised and envied, and was about 
to give the coachman another order when a twisted 
slip of paper was thrown into her lap. She saw 
no one near the carriage window. 

Insolence ! she said. 

The color left her cheeks as she read it. 

I repeat that you had better heed my warning. 
The man to whom you are engaged has no right to 
marry. J. M.’’ 

‘^If Wirt Percival has tried to cheat me — 
began the Lady Alicia, her nostrils dilating. 

Katharine took the paper. 

See — it is addressed to me,” she said. 

But people think that you are engaged to him — 
the papers have said so. The words point to him,” 
said the Lady Alicia, angrily. “ I will discover 
what it means.” 

In spite of her preoccupation and distress, she 
went into the hotel, and, announcing her name to 
the clerk, saw Katharine installed in a good room, 
but with protests. 


CHAPTER XXII. 


Jane Mavrick. 

ATHARINE was alone with her thoughts at 
last. The best part of the day had gone; 
a soft glow filled the room, which was well ap- 
pointed, but unhomelike. Her trunk and bag had 
been brought up to her ; relieved as she was — safe 
as she felt when she had turned the key in the lock, 
she sat on her trunk and began to cry. But, after 
all, it was a blessed thing to be alone. If one could 
lock the world out from even the smallest room, one 
need not be unhappy ! She resolved to wait a little 
while and then to seek out the working girl she had 
seen at the dressmaker’s — the one whose place she 
had taken for a few moments, much to her aunt’s 
disgust. That girl had a gentle and honest face ; 
from her she could get the address of a lodging 
house where she could live while she looked about 
for work. She waited until she heard five o’clock 
strike, then she went into the street; stopping only 
for a prayer at St. John’s, she went directly to the 
establishment of the fashionable importer of robes 
et manteaux.” 

244 


A MAERIAGE OP REASON. 


245 


The place was not far from the hotel. It was a 
private house, with no sign of business about it, 
except the French words in gilded letters on a black 
background. A polite attendant opened the door, 
and brought a chair for her. 

You are Miss O’Conor?’’ he said. Madame 
will be disengaged in a moment.” 

She need not disturb herself,” Katharine said. 

I came to see one of the young women here — ah, 
there she is ! Will you ask her to come here?” 

The girl, who saw Katharine, came forward at 
once, and the attendant, after a glance at the 
famous beauty — as Katharine had come to be 
regarded even in the suburbs of society — went 
back to surmise that there was going to be a 
row — for why should Mrs. Sherwood’s niece want 
to see any girl in the shop, except to scold her 
for some mistake or other?” 

The girl’s face flushed as she saw Katharine ; she 
seemed startled for an instant, and then she went 
forward with a smile. 

Katharine rose from her seat as the girl ap- 
proached her. Another view convinced Katharine 
that she might hurt her. 

I am going to ask a favor,” Katharine said, in 
a low voice, and I hope that you are able to grant 
it.” 

I am at your service. I am sure Madame will 
permit me to do anything that Miss O’Conor re- 
quires.” 

17 


246 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


Oh, Madame has nothing to do with this ! 1 

want to find a comfortable place to live, among 
people who work — I am to be a working girl my- 
self, and I fancy Madame will not care for my 
opinions then,’^ Katharine added with a smile. 

The girl looked puzzled ; she raised her soft, 
brown eyes to Katharine’s face inquiringly. For 
the first time Katharine felt that there might be 
some difficulties in the way of her project, on which 
she had not calculated. But she could not turn 
back now, and, as a vision of her aunt and Lord 
Marchmont floated before her eyes, she determined 
that she would not if she could. 

I am anxious to earn my own living — but, first, 
I must find a room in some respectable place, among 
nice, quiet people.” 

“ To earn your own living ! ” exclaimed the girl, 
if you knew how hard it is, I guess you would 
hesitate. Is it for fun ? ” • 

No,” said Katharine, solenrtily, “ no, it is for 
earnest. But I must not detain you ; will you call 
for me at the Colonnade Hotel on your way home?” 

Certainly.” 

Thank you,” said Katharine, and now I may 
say that the last frock Madame made for me was a 
trifle tight on the right shoulder. You may tell 
her that.” 

The girl nodded, and walked with her to the door. 

Out in the street, Katharine felt oppressed. After 
all, the world was, perhaps, harder than she expected. 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


247 


Would she be able to hold her own ? The dusk be- 
gan to fall ; there was a cold chill in the air ; people 
were beginning to hurry homeward. Each of them, 
she reflected, had an occupation. Why should there 
not be a place for her ? 

But she could not shake off* the depression. A 
cloud was over her. She hurried up to her room 
and ordered a cup of tea. She did not light the gas, 
but sat in the semi-gloom until the boy appeared 
with the tray. She sat in the dusk drinking her tea, 
and listening to the noise of the city. This was very 
different from the ceremony of five o’clock tea at her 
aunt’s — very different from an atmosphere of per- 
fume, and the glow of the fire and the shaded lamps 
— very different from the feeling of security and 
leisure which permeated the air of the houses she 
had visited at this hour. Somewhat earlier, she 
had enjoyed the sense of being alone ; now she 
longed for the young girl to enter; it was not 
pleasant to be alone at dusk, with nothing to con- 
template but a vague future. 

At the convent, the bell for supper would soon 
ring, and then everybody was busy with many 
interests and plans, in which she, who had been so 
much of the life there, had now no part. Did dear 
old friends ever think of her ? In a little while, her 
aunt would come home to dinner and find her note. 
Would she come after her, to storm and rage? Katha- 
rine did not care much — better this unhomelike room, 
and the solitary cup of tea, than life with Mrs. Sher- 


248 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


wood and the sacrifice of principle ! Her heart no 
longer bounded at the thought of meeting the diffi- 
culties of life; she was oppressed by sad forebodings. 
She reflected that she had good health, she had energy, 
she wanted to work, and, with Father Faber, believed 
that : 

“ Right is right, since God is God, 

And right the day must win ; 

To doubt would be disloyalty. 

To falter would be sin.” 

But, as the lights appeared on the opposite side 
of the street, and the darkness deepened, Katharine 
was seized with an unreasonable panic. The mood 
appalled her. Perhaps it would have been well 
to have married Wirt Percival. He would have 
been kind — many girls married outside the church. 
Alone in the darkness she thought this over. He 
was rich and respected ; he could have given her 
everything that the world admires — except sympa- 
thy in that most essential of all things, religion. 
Of love she had been told little at the convent, and 
the novels she had read were few ; but Mother 
Ursula, who spoke often to the young girls on the 
practical duties of life, had insisted on perfect re- 
spect and sympathy in marriage. How could she 
partake of the great Sacrament of Matrimony with 
one who did not believe it to be a sacrament ? How 
could she respect one who denied the divinity of 
Christ — her All in all? And there was Lord March- 
mont, an avowed Agnostic, keener and cleverer than 


A MAERIAGE OF REASON. 


249 


Percival, but from whom she shrank with a woman’s 
intuition that surpasses all logic ! No ; not even to 
save herself from death in the right, from the terrors 
of an unknown future, would she marry Lord March- 
mont ! The uncertain future was better than that. 
She knelt and said her beads, bathed her face, on 
which the tears had stood — for a young girl has a 
great capacity for self-pity — turned up the gas, rung 
for some more tea and bread, and began to bustle 
about in preparation for the coming of the young 
woman from the shop. There was a grate in the 
room, and she had a fire made. Things took a 
more cheerful look. She would never look back 
again ; her face must be set forward. 

A bell boy came up to announce that a lady 
wanted to see Miss O’Conor. Katharine asked 
that she should be shown up to the room. After 
a short time she heard the click of the elevator, 
which was near her room, and she opened her door. 
She stretched out both hands to welcome the girl, 
who entered rather timidly. 

Why, it is raining,” Katharine said, your 
coat is wet ! ” 

Just a little,” said the new-comer, I ran very 
fast — between the drops.” 

“ And had you no umbrella ? ” 

I broke mine in getting off a car the other day,” 
the girl said simply, and I’m afraid I can’t get it 
mended — it was too far gone.” 


250 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


The girl resisted a little Katharine’s attempt to 
take off her wet coat, while Katharine wondered 
why she did not buy another umbrella, if her’s was 
broken. Soon she was made comfortable, in spite 
of herself. Her pale face assumed a glow, and her 
brown eyes lost their tired look. She drank her 
tea with a sigh of satisfaction. 

“ Oh, how cheerful this is ! ” she said. 

Cheerful ? ” said Katharine, dubiously. 

If you knew what it is to stand on your feet 
from eight o’clock in the morning until half-past 
six at night, you would find how restful this is ! 
I am always so glad to get home. And you are 
very kind. Madame kept us a half hour later 
to-night.” 

Katharine watched her enjoying the tea, the light 
and the warmth. 

You are very kind,” she said, putting down her 
cup. I am afraid that they will worry about me 
at home, but I shall get down more easily, for at 
this hour the car is not so crowded.” 

Who will worry about you ? ” 

My sister and John — John is my small 
brother.” 

You will forgive me for detaining you — but I 
will see you part of the way home, if you like — ” 

Oh, no ! ” said the girl, I am used to it, and 
you would be obliged to go back alone. You were 
so kind to me that I should be ungrateful not to be 
anxious to oblige you.” 


A MAREIAGE OF REASON. 


251 


I am anxious to find a room, with meals, if 
possible, in a quiet place, as I told you, and I can 
not afford to pay much for it. You are surprised 
that I am poor ? But I am. I liked your face ; 
you seemed to me like a good and gentle girl, and 
I thought I would go to you for advice. I am to 
be a working girl like you.’^ 

It will be very hard.’^ 

Everything is hard in this world — unless we 
learn to do it for the love of God.’’ 

The girl sighed. 

I know that well.” She paused, and then spoke 
with heightened color. You must forgive me for 
speaking very plainly. I know,” she added, with 
a quick glance at Katharine’s face, that one had 
better die than do wrong. But, if one can keep 
one’s self-respect at all and also have leisure and 
comfort, it is best to bear some crosses. It is in- 
deed ! I am so tired on Saturday, after the week’s 
work, that I can scarcely get strength enough to go 
out to confession, when the first Sunday of the 
month comes. Besides, Miss O’Conor, you do not 
know what poverty means ; it means care and fear 
and anxiety ; it means dependence ; it means the 
endurance of slights and the feeling of inferiority.” 

I should not mind,” said Katharine, wondering 
at the girl’s choice of words ; she was certainly not 
uneducated. 

‘‘ Ah, you don’t know ! You will have to think 
twice before buying an extra loaf of bread, and that 


252 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


will be very hard for you who can afford to buy 
flowers like that. They are lovely ! ” said the girl, 
looking at the roses. 

You may take them home ! said Katharine, 
putting them in the girl^s lap. “ You will please 
me very much ! ” 

The girPs eyes sparkled. 

Oh, they are lovely ! We grow flowers in our 
yard in the summer, but I have never had roses like 
these. You must pardon me for speaking frankly 
— I can only show you what poverty means by 
speaking of myself. I awake every day with the 
fear that I may get sick. My sister at present can 
do little to earn money, and my brother must not 
leave school yet, and so, if I fall sick, the support 
of the whole of us ceases. You who buy your gowns 
at Madame’s, and only ask who made them in Paris 
and care very little about the price, will find it 
dreadful to have to make an old dress last years — 
yes, years. It would not be so hard if I had not a 
debt to pay. Our house is mortgaged, and I should 
like to call it our own, but I can scarcely pay the 
interest. How will you bear the strain of working 
from day to day, all the year round, to find you 
have nothing that you can call your own ? Some- 
times I fear that my sister will lose her mind — she 
gets so blue thinking of the desert of unrewarded 
work I am going through, and she so helpless.’’ 

Is she ill ? ” 

111 and unhappy ! ” 


A MAEEIAGE OF EEASON. 


253 


I should not be unhappy if I had a sister^s love/^ 
said Katharine, gravely. 

Ah, you don’t know,” said the girl, shaking 
her head. You are running away from — you 
have been disappointed — but if you knew how help- 
less the poor are, and how despondent they are — 
that is, if they think^ you would pause before you 
leap from the height of luxury and appreciation to 
a depth where life is — oh, so different. Not that I 
have known a life very different from ray present 
life — but I can imagine it.” 

Katharine did not speak at once. She looked at 
the girl thoughtfully ; she saw a sweet and gentle 
face, too thin about the temples, and with dark 
brown hair, waving a little over the low broad 
brow, with a straight line of care or sorrow bisect- 
ing it — a young girl, but with a look as if she 
might suddenly become old. Her simple brown 
cloth dress was neat and carefully kept. Her 
face lost its tenseness as she sipped the' tea, and 
enjoyed the warm fire and the scent of the roses. 
For a moment, she seemed to forget Katharine, 
who reflected that, at least, it was something to be 
able to give this tired being a little rest. But the 
girl roused herself. 

I must go,” she said. 

“But, first, will you find a boarding-house for 
me?” 

“ I shall try ; if you — ” a sudden glow of hope 
lighted up the girl’s face, and then it disappeared. 


254 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


A vague likeness in it to somebody she had seen 
before struck Katharine — who was it? 

If — said Katharine. 

But we are too poor to take you into our house/^ 
said the girl. 

I am poor — I want to live among the poor — is 
there a Catholic Church near your house ? ” 

Oh, yes, there are two very near ! 

If you have room, I shall live with you. And 
I fancy,’’ added Katharine, with a confident smile, 

that I shall be able to help you.” 

The girl’s face brightened. 

It will be a great help to us to have somebody 
take our spare room. But if you knew — Oh, nobody 
can ever make us happy again.” 

Our Lord — ” 

^^By a miracle — a miracle ! ” said the girl, hastily. 

There are even worse things than penury. To bear 
a broken heart in one’s breast — to have the light 
taken from one’s life — to be despised by those we 
loved ! ” the girl went on, vehemently. 

Katharine listened in amazement, but with in- 
terest. 

When will you come to see our house ? ” the 
girl said, remembering herself. I must go ! ” 

To-morrow, in the morning.” 

‘^Goodbye — thank you — thank you ! ” She shook 
Katharine’s hand, took the roses, and, throwing 
her coat over her arm, went towards the door. 
Katharine saw that she rose thus hastily to hide 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


255 


her tears. She looked at the card which had 
been left on the table; she read the words written 
in pencil : 

Jane Mavrick, care of Mrs. Cayre.^’ And then 
followed the addresses that had appeared in the two 
mysterious notes. 


CHAPTEE XXIII. 


At Mrs. Cayre’s. 

K atharine read the address over and over 
again. It was in the handwriting of the notes 
she had previously received. There was no doubt 
of that — Jane Mavrick, care of Mrs. Cay re.” On 
the back of the card were the directions for finding 
the house. It was far down town. Katharine saw 
that she must take two lines of street cars to_ reach it. 

What was in store for her? What would this 
lead to ? If Katharine had been a sentimental girl 
she would have constructed a strange romance upon 
this and sought high and low for a confidant. The 
white satin heroine in the old sentimental plays 
always had a confidant in white muslin, and the 
sentimental woman in our times finds great happi- 
ness when she is unhappy by pouring forth her tale 
into sympathetic ears. But Katharine was not senti- 
mental. Mother Ursula had not let her feast on all 
sorts of novels and had discouraged day dreams ; 
consequently she was without silly conceit or self- 
consciousness. It must be admitted that if she had 
been a different kind of young woman, she might, 
have had some reason to believe that she was 
256 


A MARKIAGE OF REASON. 


257 


specially marked out for special favor. Had she 
not been made a belle on her first entrance into 
society? Had not the most sought after man in 
town proposed to her? And was not a Lord — 
truly only a Lord by courtesy — waiting for her 
now ? 

But Katharine saw nothing remarkable in all 
this. She was not a remarkably brilliant girl ; she 
was only a naturally good girl, perfectly trained to 
see clearly right from wrong and not to put undue 
value on earthly things. 

At funerals sometimes when the priests speak 
about the worthlessness of earthly gain, the on- 
lookers say to themselves, Ah, if he had not paid 
attention to money-getting, he would not have silver 
handles on his coffin. But Katharine would not 
have cared for the silver handles ; she saw with a 
straight simplicity beyond. She was simply the re- 
sult of the teaching of the nuns, who had volun- 
tarily chosen the Lady Poverty as their mistress. 

On the morning of the next day, she went out to 
Mass, and then breakfasted in her room. Would 
her aunt come ? Well, if she did, there was only 
one condition for a return to Kenwood — Lord 
Marchmont must not be mentioned. But her aunt 
did not come ; a telegram did : 

Come back at once or you shall never come back. 
A sensation or even a scandal will not frighten me.^’ 

Katharine tore up the paper. She could see that 
her aunt thought she had run away, to make a sen- 


^58 


A MARRIAGE OF REASOR. 


sation. She took the Chestnut Street car and rode 
toward the river. It was a bright morning and she 
enjoyed the drive. 

She changed cars and went down another street — 
down through a neighborhood whose horrible squalor 
appalled her. She shrunk back in horror ; she had 
never seen anything like this. Early as it was, dis- 
hevelled women, white and black, sat on the low 
doorsteps or lounged about the damp and dirty pave- 
ments, and groups of all ages, men, women and 
children, mostly black, were gathered about stands, 
where oysters and crabs were sold. There were 
strange smells, and the car was obliged to stop in 
order that a wretched woman, scolding and mad 
with drink, could be conveyed from one side of the 
street to the other. 

Katharine had never seen this sort of poverty, 
poverty and laziness, and sin — poverty the result of 
self-indulgence. Farther down and farther down, 
she drove, until she came almost in sight of green 
fields. Then the conductor told her that she had 
reached her destination. The houses for many 
squares had pleased her by their neatness and clean- 
liness, but rather wearied her by their monotony. 
Ked brick and white paint seemed to stretch for 
miles — brick scrupulously red and paint scrupulously 
white. Everybody visible seemed to be engaged in 
cleaning the front of their houses. Some of the 
houses were fine and handsome, but all without one 
patch of green in front of them — or, when there was 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


259 


a patch of green, it was banked in by two other 
houses. This struck Katharine as sad. A world 
without patches of green had no attraction for her. 
Not a flower or a shrub in all this vast expanse of 
brick walls — not a half acre in which little children 
could play. It is true, she saw some digging in the 
gutters, and she longed to take them out to Kenwood 
and to give them the run of the garden. 

The number on the slip of paper led her to a 
dazzlingly red and white house, two stories in height, 
with a slanting roof, and an attic beneath it. She 
walked up the three snowy stone steps, and pulled 
a dazzlingly brilliant bell-handle. 

A woman answered — a rather tall woman, neatly 
dressed in a gown of calico ; Katharine^s quick 
glance read that she had once been beautiful, that 
she would be beautiful now, were it not for the lack 
of color and the careworn look of the face. Hair 
of a peculiar light color, between brown and a 
grayish tint, was knotted at the back of the head. 
There was such a wealth of it ; it escaped in a hun- 
dred tendrils about her neck ; and it was the first 
feature that struck Katharine in the woman before 
her. Katharine had no need to tell her name. The 
woman’s face changed at sight of her ; it had been 
cold, white, almost stern ; it suddenly took on another 
look. A smile made her face sunny for a moment. 

You are Miss O’Conor ? ” 

‘^And you — and you?” began Katharine, stand- 
ing in the boxlike hall and gazing earnestly at the 


260 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


young woman. This was the face she had seen at 
the carriage window, and she had seen it before that 
— somewhere — but where ? 

Oh, I am Mrs. Cayre — Jenny Mavrick’s sister,” 
said the woman heartily, as she led the way into a 
little cheery room. 

Beyond, Katharine could see the kitchen. There 
was a glimmer of sunlight through yellow shades 
there, on tin and silver. The dining-room was not 
so bright ; it was by comparison in semi-gloom ; but 
Katharine could make out an engraving of Murillo^s 
Immaculate Conception over the lounge, and see 
that the paper was of a soft and tasteful color. A 
table covered by a red cloth, stood near the window, 
on the sill of which a geranium upheld early clusters 
against a dainty white curtain. 

A crimson curtain separated this dining-room 
from another apartment, which was doubtless the 
parlor. Katharine took the chair which Mrs. Cayre 
offered with grace and kindliness. 

Your sister has told you that I need a room.” 

“ Yes,” answered the woman, and I hope you 
will like it here. It is far down town, but then the 
cars are so convenient. And if you write books, 
you know, it will not make much difference where 
you live.” 

“Write books!” said Katharine in amazement. 
“ Why, if I write a letter, it is a great acquirement 
for me ! Who could have told you that ? ” 


A MAREIAGE OF REASON. 


261 


Perhaps I must have misunderstood after all. 
I think Jenny merely said you seemed clever enough 
to write books.^' 

“Jenny is kind/^ said Katharine, smiling. She 
looked into the bluish gray eyes of the woman ; they 
were honest, merry eyes, with neither flattery nor 
satire in them. 

“ I shall look out for music pupils.” 

“We are very poor, you know — and I do all the 
work myself ; perhaps our ways will not suit you, 
though I should like to have you.” 

There was a cordial light in Mrs. Cayre’s eyes ; 
and Katharine wondered why she should show so 
much interest. 

“I am poor, too,” said Katharine, “and I want 
to learn how to live within my means, and I hope 
you may teach me — how pretty your picture is — and 
everything seems nice — you donT seem to be poor 
at all!” 

“ But we are,” said Mrs. Cayre, “ and it takes 
great planning to keep everything so neat, and I 
flatter myself it is neat. In the summer we have a 
very pretty yard. I hope you like flowers.” 

“ Indeed I do ! But, if you will show me the 
room — ” 

Mrs. Cayre rose, and led the way up a narrow 
staircase. She ushered Katharine into a square room 
smelling of lavender. The paper on the walls was 
white, with pink garlands of rosebuds scattered over 
it ; the counterpane on the bed was similarly deco- 
18 


262 


A MAREIAGE OF REASON. 


rated ; the bureau and its glass were almost entirely 
draped with white muslin and pale pink ribbon. On 
the mantel-piece stood an image of the Blessed Virgin 
— a cheap plaster image, but in front of it were a 
few geraniums and a sprig of mignonette. The floor 
was painted white, a thick rug of artistically woven 
rags lying in front of the bed. 

It is very pretty ! ” 

Mrs. Cay re’s face, which had worn a look of great 
anxiety, smiled. 

I arranged it myself — I painted the counterpane 
when I was too ill to do anything else, and, when I 
got better, I put those roses on the wall. It was a 
tedious job, but I did my best.” 

And you succeeded!” cried Katharine, warmly. 
“ They are La France roses, too. How I love them ! ” 
She noticed that the roses she had given Jenny 
the night before were grouped before a small metal 
crucifix on the bureau. The room was small ; it 
would probably be hot in summer, and cold in 
winter, in spite of the little stove in it. But, as 
Katharine reflected, she was poor, and she must put 
up with some discomforts. There was a bath-room 
over the kitchen. Mrs. Cay re and her sister occu- 
pied the attic, and the back room could be rented 
by Katharine, too, if she wanted it. The terms 
seemed low to Katharine ; she paid a month in ad- 
vance, and then re-examined the room with interest 
and a feeling of possession. She observed two little 
blue shoes on the bureau, half-hidden by the roses. 


A MAREIAGE OF REASON. 263 

She picked them up ; they had been worn ; the 
marks of the little toes were visible and the heel in 
one was worn. Katharine involuntarily kissed them ; 
she loved little children even better than flowers. 

She turned, to see tears in her companion's eyes. 

“ Whose are these ? ’’ she asked. 

Yours, whispered the woman, in a broken 
voice. ^^Don^t you remember? Oh, do not speak 
to me — do not speak to me ! I can never feel joy 
again ! And yet you alone make it possible.’’ 

Katharine put down the shoes gently among the 
flowers. She turned again to the woman. Was she 
mad ? After all, perhaps it was unsafe to take this 
room in the house of an unknown person. The 
woman covered her face with her hands. 

Ah, Miss O’Conor, I should be in despair if it 
were not for you. You gave me hope. You could 
not save my little one’s life, but you saved its soul. 
It is now among those who are in the full presence 
of God.” 

Katharine was puzzled. The woman was sincere; 
her sobs attested that. A light broke upon her; she 
recalled the journey with Mr. and Mrs. Percival 
from the convent of Our Lady of The Eosary, and 
the scene of the Baptism. So this was the mother ! 
Now she knew where she had seen the face. No 
wonder that she had been ill, no wonder that she 
looked careworn. 

‘‘Ah, I remember,” said Katharine, “and I thank 
God that He gave me the sweet privilege of helping 


264 


A MAERIAGE OF REASON. 


that little child to its place near the Divine Infant. 
Surely it was a great privilege ! And you have lost 
your husband, too — poor dear ! 

And Katharine kissed her. Mrs. Cayre’s face 
hardened. 

My husband? — Oh, yes,’^ she said, I lost him.’^ 

There was silence. The softness and tenderness 
of the moment before had gone. There was a chill 
in the air. Mrs. Cayre averted her face from Katha- 
rine, who went to the window to look at the dreary 
row of brick houses opposite. How strange life 
seemed, how small the world ! And how helpful- 
ness for one another makes hidden, golden chains 
through it all ! These thoughts ran through Katha- 
rine’s mind, though she was not given to such re- 
flections. 

I will come this afternoon,” Katharine said. 
Mrs. Cayre silently led her downstairs ; there, with 
a certain pride, she drew aside the crimson curtains 
and showed the parlor, a small, square room in 
semi-gloom, for the shutters were closed. There 
were prettily draped chairs, a small, old-fashioned 
piano, a rug on the painted floor, and a few draw- 
ings on the wall. Evidently people could be refined, 
even if they were poor ; she had a peculiar satisfac- 
tion in the thought. 

She gave her hand to Mrs. Cayre, at the door. 

You will be back to tea ? ” asked the latter, 
wistfully. 

Oh, yes,” said Katharine, if it is convenient.” 


A MAERIAGE OF EEASON. 


266 


Jenny will be happy,” answered Mrs. Cayre, 
she has so few friends of her own age, and she 
wants to like you, if you will let her, though your 
positions are so different.” 

Katharine smiled. I don’t see that ; we must 
both work and I am glad she likes me.” She paused ; 
would it be well to ask about the notes. 

Perhaps Mrs. Cayre divined her thought. As 
they waited on the step for the car to come — Katha- 
rine had gone through a cross street to reach the 
the lawn — the woman said, timidly : 

Will you let me ask a question ? ” 

Willingly,” said Katharine. 

Are you engaged to be married — the papers 
say—” 

I am not engaged to be married, and I never 
have been ! ” said Katharine, decidedly. 

Thank Heaven ! ” said Mrs. Carey ; and she 
said to herself : Now I can keep my secret.” 

Katharine’s car came; she was glad to let the 
affair of the notes alone. What difference did it 
make now? 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


A Question of Spelling. 

Katharine said, “ no.’^ She stood, facing 



Mrs. Percival in her room at the hotel ; she 
spoke firmly yet in that low tone which the careful 
cultivation of the nuns had given to her voice ; and 
consequently Katharine’s no ” was deprived pf all 
offence in Mrs. Percival’s ears, for Mrs. Percival 
could forgive almost anything that was not ill-bred. 

My dear,” Mrs. Percival urged, you are doing a 
most foolish thing. You are throwing yourself away. 
You are rushing into poverty. I admit that your 
aunt is a scheming, designing, underbred woman, 
but — ” 

“No word against my aunt, please, dear Mrs. 
Percival,” said Katharine, “ she is my uncle’s wife, 
and she has been kind to me. I am grateful for 
your offer — I am indeed, but I cannot accept it.” 

“ Why not ? ” Mrs. Percival leaned back in the 
large easy chair, which gave the hotel room an 
unusual air of luxuriousness. “ Why not ? Mr. 
Percival likes you; I like you. You have only to 
come to us. The arrangement can easily be made 
with your aunt, and the thing done very quietly.” 


266 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


267 


It is very kind, Mrs. Percival,” Katharine 
answered. I may say that, except my uncle, I like 
you and Mr. Percival better than anybody I have 
met — in the world. And I am sure that I might 
learn to like you almost as well as Mother Ursula 
and the Sisters, if I knew you better. But how 
could I live on your bounty ? I have a sort of claim 
on my uncle because he is my uncle. But how could 
I live in idleness, supported by Mr. Percival. It 
would not do.’’ 

Idleness ! ” exclaimed Mrs. Percival. What 
nonsense ! you could answer my notes, arrange the 
flowers for dinner, see people when I am tired. 
Idleness ! — why, Katharine, Mr. Percival would 
keep you singing to him,” 

Ko,” repeated Katharine. It is better that I 
should break loose from this kind of life. It is 
artificial ; it does not do me any good ; I was never 
intended for a ^ society girl ’ — never ! ” 

Why don’t you go into a convent, then,” said 
Mrs. Percival, shortly. 

I have no vocation — I wdsh I had. I thought 
that you would be one of the last people in the world 
to forget that the religious life requires a very special 
vocation.” 

“Perhaps I have forgotten it,” said Mrs. Percival 
with a sigh. “ I fear that this continual rush and 
bustle rubs the bloom off one’s religious impressions.” 

“ I am afraid of that,” said Katharine, eagerly. 
“ It is really — ” 


268 


A MAEEIAGE OF EEASON. 


^^Oh, don’t preach/’ interrupted Mrs. Percival, 
petulantly ; I hate preaching from young girls. 
How can you defend yourself? How can you ex- 
plain your going olf in this way ? It will be hard 
enough to cover up your running off from your 
aunt’s house without a chaperon as it is. You know 
very well that of late a chaperon is an absolute 
necessity. It’s only to save you from your own im- 
prudence that I have come after you now.” 

I am grateful,” answered Katharine, very 
grateful. I can understand that a chaperon is a 
desirable thing in your set, but a working girl can 
not afford a chaperon, and I prefer to be a working 
girl rather than a dependent. Let me go on — please ! 
Suppose I lived with you in luxury — a time would 
come when I should have to look out for myself — 
and then I should be unprepared for it. I know I 
am poor, and I accept the fact. My father came to 
this country and he accepted the fact, and did what 
he could. And I am willing to do as he did. Mrs. 
Percival, I will not be married for my uncle’s money. 
And I am afraid of this life of ^society; ’ I might 
become — ” 

Like me — say it out, Katharine — you mean it.” 
Katharine turned away ; she had not intended to 
say it. Mrs. Percival was silent for a time. 

There is not a girl in society who does not envy 
your opportunities — and yet you throw them away.” 

Would you have me marry Lord Marchmont ? ” 
“ And perhaps be a Duchess some day.” 


A MAERIAGE OF REASON. 


269 


‘^Good-bye, Mrs. Percival — good-bye/^ Katha- 
rine said, kissing her. she added, timidly, 

you are ever ill and need me, you will find me a 
capital nurse — 

said Mrs. Percival, impatiently, am 
never ill. Good-bye. But you have disappointed 
me, Katharine 0*Conor. And I am sure Mr. Per- 
cival will be disappointed.” 

She went away. Katharine sat on the bed and 
cried. It was hardest of all to know that Mr. Per- 
val would be disappointed. Again she weighed the 
two lives before her, and again she felt sure that 
the artificial life as she saw it in society would not 
suit her. She panted for fresh waters, she wanted 
to be free to live according to God’s will. And 
then the doubt arose — was it God’s will that she 
should go out into the world, from riches to poverty ? 
She called to mind that our Lord was poor; she 
thought of the little house down town and of Mrs. 
Cayre’s face. She wiped her eyes and felt comforted. 
After all, to stay at her uncle’s would mean to strug- 
gle continually against her aunt’s will and perhaps 
to make a breech between her uncle and aunt ; and 
she felt sure that to take up her residence at Mrs. 
Percival’s, after leaving her uncle’s house, would 
seem a great ofPence in his eyes. 

She strapped her trunk and rang for the porter. 
Just as the trunk had disappeared, the Lady Alicia 
entered the room ; she was attired in her rough serge 
suit and thick walking shoes, and a large blue veil 


270 


A MAERIAGE OF REASON. 


did not add to the elegance of her appearance. She 
threw back her veil, and Katharine observed that 
she was pale and anxious-looking. 

“So you are actually going to play the fool, Kitty 
— ^you are really in earnest in doing this Donna 
Quixota act ! Biddy said, sharply. 

Katharine’s color rose, but she restrained the 
words that rose to her lips. 

“Cervantes made Don Quixote a very noble 
gentleman, if I remember,” she said with a smile. 

“ And so you will give up the best things in life 
for a whim ! ” 

“ If the best things in life are riches and luxury, 
I am willing to give them up. If they are the best 
things in life, our Lord lived in vain,” Katharine 
said with spirit. 

“Is this the talk of a convent girl?” said the 
Lady Alicia, with sarcasm. 

“ I don’t know what your convent girls are taught, 
but we are taught here in America that the best 
things under Heaven are not money and luxuries. 
We are not taught that to marry for these things is 
the sole duty of women.” 

Katharine’s temper was rising. Biddy changed 
color ; she had a temper, too. 

“ Do you mean that for me, Kitty O’Conor ? ” 

“ Perhaps I did mean it for you,” said Katharine, 
hastily. “ Biddy, I don’t want to quarrel. You 
will never understand me, so what’s the use of talk- 
ing.” 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


271 


The Lady Alicia went to the window and drummed 
on the pane with her fingers. Katharine held the 
door-knob in her hand ; she was anxious to be gone. 

Do you think Wirt Percival could deceive me 
in any way? Do you think that there is any truth 
in that note ? 

Katharine turned in amazement. 

You donT mean to say that you have such a 
doubt of the man you promised to marry? Oh, 
Biddy 

The Lady Alicia raised her eyeglass, with an 
attempt at insolence. Kitty O’Conor was a nice 
girl, no doubt, but she might go too far. The 
eyeglass dropped ; Katharine was not at all sub- 
dued. 

I do distrust Mr. Percival,” she said, after an 
uneasy pause. You Americans have such lax ideas 
about marriage and divorce — and the man has no 
religion. He may be a Mormon for all I know — 
Americans are so queer.” 

Katharine put her hand on the knob again ; she 
was disgusted. 

I might have known that you wouldn’t let such 
a prize escape you, if there wasn’t something wrong 
about him.” 

Good-bye,” said Katharine, opening the door. 

Stop ! ” cried the Lady Alicia, I am wretched, 
Kitty — can’t you see it? I can’t ask this man 
whether he is divorced or not — and they say in 
Dublin that half America is divorced — and I 


272 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


haven’t any mother to do it. Don’t you see how 
wretched I am ? If he were a Catholic, I should 
be safe — but, as it is, I am not at all sure. At 
home everybody knows everybody, and one is pretty 
safe. But here — Oh, don’t you see how wretched 
I am ? ” 

Very wretched,” said Katharine, ^^to think of 
marrying a man whom you distrust. I can’t im- 
agine anybody more wretched.” 

The Lady Alicia rose angrily. 

What am I to do ? I can’t marry at home un- 
less I go down in the social scale. I haven’t any 
money, and nobody at home in our set would marry 
me without a dot You ought to know that. What 
am I to do ? ” 

Biddy intended this question to be pathetic. But 
Katharine did not understand it that way. 

Work,” she said. 

‘^Work?” repeated the Lady Alicia, sarcastic- 
ally. Work ! Starve, be a pauper, live a pauper, 
die a pauper ! What can I work at ? One of your 
newspaper men offered me a lot of money for a series 
of articles on ^ How They Act in English Society.’ 
I shall do that, and help pay for my trousseau. It 
won’t last long, though, and I fancy that, when the 
man sees how I write, he’ll be tired of his bargain. 
I can’t even teach you American girls deportment — 
you’ve already more style than the Parisians ! But 
don’t let us quarrel, as you said. I must marry 
Percival.” 


A MAEEIAGE OF EEASON. 


273 


It is worse than death. He does not believe in 
Christianity even ; and for that reason you do not 
trust him. Biddy, I cannot understand you. For 
what our religion teaches us is like a mere passing 
breath, you are willing to sacrifice what is really 
best in life — Faith and Peace.^' 

Biddy went up to Katharine and put her arms 
about her. Katharine felt a tear fall on her hand. 

I wish I had never met you ! she said, passion- 
ately. Nobody ever talked that way to me before. 
People said, ^ Marry for love,’ but nobody that I 
knew could afford to marry for love, and of course 
the sentimental novels are all nonsense; but we 
never thought of religion, and yet now I begin to 
see that religion ought to have something to do with 
marriage. One can’t trust a man in this country, 
where even the best people don’t seem to believe in 
this country. It is Paganism ! You Americans 
are utterly unscrupulous ! ” 

Katharine could not help smiling — she could not 
tell why. There was an artless worldliness in the 
Lady Alicia’s point of view which was amusing. 
Instantly, however, Katharine saw again the miser- 
able side of the affair. 

Wirt Percival is no doubt a gentleman,” she 
said, I imagine that he would never break a 
promise he had made. But, Biddy, think of a life 
spent with a husband whose God is not your God — 
who will grow year by year more and more apart 
from you.” 


274 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


I’m not thinking of the sentimental side ; but, 
Kitty, I have only a short time to stay in the coun- 
try. It must be Wirt Percival or nobody.” 

“ Let it be nobody, then.” 

That is impossible.” 

Katharine drew away from her friend. 

Good-bye,” she said, I am afraid I shall never 
see you again ; but I will pray for you, Biddy.” 

Help me to find out what that note means.” 

Katharine looked thoughtful. 

‘^I will — and I think I can. Mrs. Cay re is 
Jenny Mavrick’s sister ; she knows. Biddy,” cried 
Katharine, as a new light flashed into her mind, “ I 
have it now ! Mrs. Cayre is not the wife of Wirt 
Percival, but of Ferdinand Carey — Cayre is Carey 
— don’t yon see ? ” 

The Lady Alicia stared. Slowly she was made 
to understand what Katharine meant. 

Thank you, Kitty,” she said ; I believe you are 
right. The paragraphers — particularly the one that 
writes in that nasty New York paper — had you en- 
gaged to this Carey. Yes, you are right! I am 
awfully relieved ! ” 

Good-bye,” Katharine said, “ I must go. If you 
have distrusted Wirt Percival once, what guarantee 
have you that you will not distrust him again ? ” 

Katharine hastily left the room. The Lady 
Alicia looked after her wistfully, and then went 
down stairs slowly, with a thoughtful look on her 
face. 


CHAPTER XXV. 


A Weecked Life. 


ATHARINE felt that she had solved the 
mystery of the notes by a sudden flash of 
that intuition which is every sane woman’s birth- 
right. Jenny Mavrick’s sister was Mrs. Carey, 
and Mrs. Carey and the woman whose child she 
had baptized were one. When she had time to 
think it all over in the car going down town, she 
was amazed that both the Lady Alicia and herself 
had taken it so coolly. It seemed impossible — im- 
possible that Ferdinand Carey could have married 
a woman like Jenny Mavrick’s sister. He was 
fastidious — almost snobbish, she had heard his 
friends say, in his regard for social standing. And 
yet there was a mystery about him ; he had hinted 
of a sad past. Katharine recalled the face of Mrs. 
Cayre and her look of suffering. How could it 
have happened? Jenny Mavrick was a worker 
among the workers ; and her sister was of the same 
class, while Ferdinand Carey was of another class 
entirely. How wretched it was, Katharine thought. 
And then as she thought of Biddy and Wirt Perci- 
val, her heart went out to her friend, and she shud- 

275 


276 


A MAREIAGE OF EEASON. 


dered. Marriage without trust, marriage without 
the truest harmony in the most essential of all 
things — religion — meant to her unmitigated misery 
and regret. 

It was growing dark when she reached the little 
house down town. A cheerful light shone in the 
parlor, and Mrs. Cayre, looking less sad and spirit- 
less than in the morning, received her warmly. She 
looked up into Katharine’s face shyly and then kissed 
her. Katharine was surprised and pleased by this 
demonstration. 

It is good to have you here — good to see you 
here. Ah, suppose Baby had died without bap- 
tism ! ” 

The woman gently removed Katharine’s wrap 
and hat, and kissed her again. She found that her 
room had been made warm and cheerful for her. 

She locked the door, and enjoyed for a few mo- 
ments the agreeable sensation of being alone. She 
was free at last. Mrs. Sherwood could not inter- 
rupt or insist on her going through any fashionable 
formality now. 

She made her plan. She would rest a day or 
two, and then try to find pupils. And perhaps 
Herr Teufelfisch might be induced to help her to 
a place as a concert singer. She had hope, and 
there was work before her. Providence seemed to 
have led her into this house — into the house of Fer- 
dinand Carey’s wife, and perhaps it might be her 
mission to reconcile those two whom God had joined, 


A MAERIAGE OF REASON. 


277 


and who were parted, she felt sure, by the influence 
of man. The cars rattled past her windows, their 
jingling bells at first disturbing her meditations. 
But she became used to it after a time. The room 
was small, the green blinds on the windows a little 
faded, but there was an air of neatness and severity 
about everything such as one finds only in Philadel- 
phia, where even poverty has a distinction of its own, 
and is seldom the squalid thing found in other cities. 

Katharine wrote two long letters to the convent 
and one of them was to her little friend, Maria 
Rodrigues, full of sage maxims. In answer to 
them, there came a few days later, a letter from 
Mother Ursula full of gentle reproach. Could not 
Katharine have come back to the convent, if her 
aunt^s house were intolerable. And might not she 
have endured that house until her uncle could have 
come home. After all. Mother Ursula said, obedi- 
ence was better than sacrifice.^^ What unknown 
dangers might a young girl meet, venturing alone 
into a strange city? Mother Ursula counselled her 
in the end to see the parish priest at once, and to 
inquire particularly into the character of the people 
among whom she had fallen. 

The other message consisted of an orange skin 
which enclosed some guava jelly from the little 
Maria, and a slip of paper on which was written in 
a large, round hand, love you.’’ This message 
somehow or other gave Katharine a good deal of 
consolation . 

19 


278 


A MAEEIAGE OF EEASON. 


For a few days she saw little of the people of the 
house, except at meals. They were quiet and soft- 
spoken and eager to please. Katharine noticed that 
Mrs. Cayre still possessed great beauty, although a 
sad and troubled look never left her. When she 
was not busy arranging her belongings in the room, 
she wrote letters, and even composed a little song. 
The only response to a note sent to Mrs. Sherwood 
was a large trunk containing all her dresses and 
gloves, with a slip of paper pinned inside the lid, 
on which her aunt had written : 

Your uncle will never see you again. You are 
as dead to him.” 

It gave Katharine a passing pang. But, in a few 
moments, she regained her composure. She was 
sure that her uncle had not authorized those words. 
She called Mrs. Cayre up to her room to show her the 
finery. The woman’s eyes sparkled and she sighed, 
as Katharine displayed the soft silks and gauzes. 

Katharine was surprised. 

I didn’t think you had such an interest in these 
things.” 

^^Ah, it would have made such a difference ! ” she 
answered, half to herself. “ He was fond of such 
things, and I had never acquired the graces which 
he liked. Perhaps, if he had seen me once in a dress 
like that — for I was not always so worn and faded 
as I am now — ” 

He ! ” asked Katharine, He ! I fancy he could 
not have been much of a man, if he admired you for 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


279 


your looks and dress alone ! I thought there was 
more in him than that ! 

Katharine, remembering herself, saw Mrs. Cayre 
start. She took her hands. 

I have guessed who he is. Ferdinand Carey is 
your husband ! 

The woman dropped her eyes and then looked in 
a startled way at Katharine. 

^^And you knew this, and yet — 

Ko,” said Katharine, I did not — I guessed it 
lately. Besides, you are mistaken — I know what 
you mean — Mr. Carey was never engaged to me — 
he is an honorable man. There was a silly rumor 
in the newspapers about it, but — 

Thank God ! said Mrs. Cayre, looking young 
and bright again. You give me new life ; I feared, 
with his idea about divorce, that he might have sent 
me adrift. Oh, it can be done, you know — it can 
be done without a poor woman knowing anything 
about it — for he is rich, and the laws are all against 
marriage in this country.^’ 

^‘And yet you married him, knowing that he held 
marriage as a trifle — as a thing of mere human law ! 

^^No human being can help me,^’ said Mrs. 
Cayre sadly. ‘^The past is past. And — I love 
him still.’^ 

It must be helped ! said Katharine, with all 
the decisiveness of hopeful youth. ^^God works 
through human means, and He never intended that 
married people should be separated. Besides, there 


280 


A MARRIAGE OE REASON. 


must be hope, since Ferdinand Carey himself is so 
unhappy.” 

I wish I could think he was unhappy,” said the 
woman, ^^and yet I would not cause him pain for 
all the world. If he were unhappy, there would be 
hope for me. I hear that he is the gayest of the 
gay. I read of him among people who would despise 
me as the dirt beneath their feet. He has wealth, 
society, pleasure — while I have nothing but bitter- 
ness, and the memory of that death.” 

Neither wealth nor pleasure makes us happy. 
Father Mehen told me that you ought to be happy, 
because you are good.” 

Father Mehen is kind ; if I try to be good, it 
is because he keeps me from despair.” 

Father Mehen was the parish priest, whom Katha- 
rine, following Mother Ursula’s advice, had seen. 

No,” said Mrs. Cayre, burying her face in her 
hands, it would be better for me to die. It would 
release him. I know I deserve all this — I brought 
it on myself; I know that I should never have 
married. But I can’t help suffering ; I can’t forget 
him. He is my husband — and you say these stories 
were false ? ” 

All false,” said Katharine. 

I love him,” answered Mrs. Cayre simply. 

Katharine did not answer at once; she stood, 
holding the soft gauze in her hands. 

I cannot understand how you could have loved 
a man whom you did not respect — a man who could 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 281 

hold lightly that supreme principle upon which your 
whole happiness was to rest. I cannot understand 
it — but, after all, it is not necessary that I should 
understand it. I want to help you now. I know 
now why you were so anxious to warn me. I 
thought that those warnings were pointed at Mr. 
Wirt Percival.” 

T am glad ; he has forsaken me ; but he is not 
as base as I thought. Jenny told me how kind you 
had been to her, and, when rumor coupled your name 
and his together, I was almost tempted to kill myself. 
^ I can make them both happy/ I said.^^ 

Katharine shuddered. 

How horrible ! she exclaimed. 

Some people would have called it heroic,’’ said 
Mrs. Cay re. Ferdinand Carey would, and I 
thought, ^he will weep over my grave, and think 
kind thoughts of me.’ But I hurried off to the 
church, and there, before the altar, all those sinful 
thoughts went away.” 

Katharine put her arm about the woman’s neck. 

You are morbid,” she said ; then she had to 
stop and think — a case of this kind was beyond her 
experience. She was not sentimental, and Mrs. 
Cayre’s j)roposed sacrifice appeared to her not only 
foolish, but criminal. The truth is, Katharine had 
not read the current novels. 

“ I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” she said, cheerfully, 
^‘you stay here and I’ll bring up some tea — Oh, 
yes, I will ; you must let me wait on you this time ; 


282 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


you must ! Then we’ll sit in this quiet room and 
have a lovely talk. And you’ll let me call you Mrs. 
Carey — ” 

No,” said the woman, with a frown, I shall 
not be called by that name so long as he is ashamed 
of me. Call me Helen, if you will.” 

Well, Helen, wait ! ” 

Katharine enjoyed the excitement of running 
downstairs and making the tea in the little kitchen ; 
besides it gave her time to think. Oh, if Mother 
Ursula were here ! It was such a responsibility to 
have a human heart in her hands. 

When she returned with the tea, she found Helen 
Carey crying. This pleased her ; she believed that 
tea and tears were sovereign cures for the sorrows 
of her sex. 

She poured out a cup, sat down on the lounge 
beside her new friend, and said, “ Tell me all ! ” 

Helen drank the tea, and, whether it was through 
the cheering cup or Katharine’s presence, she began 
to brighten. 

There is little to tell,” she said. ‘‘My sister 
and I lived on a farm in Ohio. Our parents were 
dead, and there was just enough left to keep us — 
and we hadn’t made up our minds what we should 
do yet. People said I was pretty, and I am afraid 
it made me very idle and capricious. I thought 
my face was my fortune, and I read novels, while 
I waited for the Prince. He came to visit Judge 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 283 

Lambert on the hill one day in summer, and he 
was — you know who.^’ 

Katharine nodded. 

We were Catholics; and he wanted me to drop 
my religion. But that I stood out against. I must 
have been very pretty, and clever, too, in a crude 
sort of way — not like you,’ she said, wistfully, or 
like the other girls he knows ; but in my own way. 
He liked me. Even Judge Lambert, my father^s 
old neighbor, spoke to me. He said I could not be 
happy with a man so different from myself. I didn^t 
mind it much when he talked about opposite religions; 
but, when he said I was Ferdinand Carey^s social 
inferior, I fired up, and I said that I’d marry him, 
anyhow. And I did ! Well, afterward the baby 
came; then we quarreled. He stayed in Ohio; and 
he was always trying to teach me ; he wouldnft have 
the baby christened ; so we fought about everything. 
At last, I demanded to be introduced to his rela- 
tives. He refused, unless I would consent to go 
abroad first, and be made ‘presentable.^ During 
all this time, I never thought of religion, except to 
quarrel about it. One day I took the baby and 
Jenny, and ran away. He was ashamed of me — he 
was ashamed of me ! and he showed it ! Oh, I 
almost hate him when I think of it. Jenny and I 
moved from place to place, I, sullen, despairing — 
and you know what happened. Ah, the dear little 
baby ! ” There was silence. “ Miss O’Conor, if I 
were not sure that the sweet, little thing was in 


284 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


Heaven, I should go raving mad ! ’’ she said, in a 
broken voice. 

She is in Heaven ! 

Helen pressed her hand. 

We came here — because I must be near him. 
We had but little money ; I was sick, and Jenny 
had to work so hard. But, still, we kept together ; 
and to be near him, is joy and torture ! I worked. 
Miss O’Conor, .at my looks; I observed people; I 
tried to correct the defects he noticed ; I did my 
best to restrain my voice, and to think of my manner. 
Oh, if I could only please him ! If he would only 
be proud of me ! ” 

^^He shall be proud of you,” said Katharine, 
losing her patience, as she looked at the flushed, 
anxious face near hers, the eyes soft and luminous, 
the pale skin flushed . Oh, what idiots woman 
are, to care ! ” she said to herself. He shall be proud 
of you yet ! ” 

Ah, no,” said Helen, “ I am so unworthy of 
him — I know it. He loved music, and I was so 
ill-trained, yet I thought myself so clever ; and, 
until I met him I seemed to know so much more 
than other people. But I would be humble now. 
If I had only been, I might have won him to me — 
and to the Church.” 

Katharine moved impatiently. 

You should never have married him. He is — 
well. I’ll not give my opinion of him. If a man 
will not see the beauty of our Faith by the light 


A MARKIAGE OF REASON. 


285 


that each human being receives, no woman can make 
him see it. Still, you are his wife, and it can’t be 
helped. You must use your tact; don’t mope. 
Dressed well, and looking more cheerful, you’d com- 
pare with the handsomest woman he knows.” 

Would I ? ” cried Helen, raising her head. 

And, oh, I have worked so hard at my music. I 
can almost sing well.” 

And perhaps I can help you.” 

Ah, you can ! And perhaps — ” 

Katharine did not know whether to be pleased or 
contemptuous at the joy and hope on her face. 

Well, perhaps,” she said, kissing her, *^now, go 
and get tea for Jenny.” 


CHAPTER XXVI. 


‘^The Winter Roses.” 

H err TEUFELFISCH next occupied Katha- 
rine’s thoughts. She had never known the 
value of money in the necessity of earning it. But, 
as a girl of common sense, she reflected that her 
little store of money must come to an end soon, if 
it were not replenished. She would have been 
willing in the first flush of her enthusiasm to go to 
work for nothing. Fortunately, she had no illu- 
sions about the measure that her talent was likely 
to meet with in the world. She had been told that 
she could sing ; but she had been told a great many 
other things during her experience in society which 
she knew to be only complimentary. She was sure 
that Herr Teufelfisch would be honest ; Katharine’s 
ambition did not soar above the giving of lessons, 
in spite of the music master’s opinion that they were 
wretched drudgery. She had Herr Teufelfisch’s 
address ; he lived in a narrow street uptown, in a 
colony of his compatriots — Viennese who followed 
the Viennese ways. 

Katharine rang the bell in a dingy doorway, and 
a blooming servant maid, in a white cap, made her 
286 


A MAERIAGE OF REASON. 


287 


appearance. Katharine gave her a card; but the 
amiable maid merely smiled, muttered : and 

showed her into a parlor where Herr Teufelfisch was 
sitting before a little piano. His hair was more than 
usually dishevelled, he wore a dingy, reddish dress- 
ing gown, he paid no attention to the entrance of 
Katharine, who had time to notice the tarnished 
ormolu clock on the mantel, over which huug a 
portrait of Emperor Francis Joseph, flanked by 
two long candlesticks. The air of dinginess notice- 
able on the outside of the house was evident inside. 
And yet, it was comfortable. If there was a special 
spot in the wall paper just over the sofa on which 
Herr Teufelfisch’s long pipe reposed, it was because 
some guest — or perhaps the old musician himself — 
preferred to rest there. Sheets of music were every- 
where scattered over the carpet. 

Herr Teufelfisch did not turn his head ; he went 
on drumming on the little piano. 

So ? he said, in a cross voice. You are late 
again ! You are always late — spitzbuhe ! — always 
late, always ! Come in ! You shall practice my 
grand Polonaise for two hours for this ! 

Katharine laughed. 

Herr Teufelfisch turned and scowled ferociously. 

So ! So ! ” he said, jumping up from the piano- 
stool. It is you, gnddiges fraulein. And I scolded 
you ? I thought it was the little Pickett — the little 
Pickett is a very clever pupil, but a very lazy one. 
He is always late — sit down — I beg of you. Wait, 


288 


A MAEEIAGE OF EEASON. 


till I take my dear pipe from the sofa. And you 
will pardon the looks of everything ! See ! I am 
a bachelor, and I am not neat.’^ 

Katharine sat down, and the old man beamed on 
her over his spectacles. 

Ach,^^ he said, “ you are the same but different. 
What is it I miss ? You have no flowers ; you always 
had flowers ? Why have you no flowers ? 

Katharine threw back the fur boa about her neck, 
and laughed. 

Even your laugh is truCy^ said the old man. 

You could not make a discord, if you would. Ah, 
you have come to sing for me. The Pickett — some- 
times I call him the little Pig — will not come to-day, 
so that I shall be free during his hour. You will 
sing? I am afraid you will not like my little piano ; 
it is very old ; it was made for the young Duke of 
Reichstadt, and his mother, the Empress, gave it to 
my father. But the tone is sweet ; and I like it for 
the singing, though it is nothing to the grand piano 
I have in the other room. It is tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, 
but — oh ! so sweet ! But where are your flowers ? 

“ I am poor now, Herr Teufelfisch, and I cannot 
afford to buy flowers,’’ said Katharine. I must 
work, and so I came to you ! ” 

And so you have run away from the amiable 
Mrs. Sherwood ? So! So! I have heard that. You 
shall sing at my next concert ! ” 

Katharine stood up impulsively, her eyes spark- 
ling. 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


289 


Oh, Herr Teufelfisch — you are too kind. I did 
not expect this. I expected only a pupil or two, 
like the little Pickett, for instance,” 

Herr Teufelfisch drew himself up. 

Not the little Pickett — no — he is a genius, but 
lazy. Only I could teach him. But you can sing, 
and that is not so hard. And you will have fifty 
dollars for three songs.” 

Katharine’s eyes sparkled. 

That will be lovely ! — but — ” 

No buts. What will you sing ? If I could get 
a new contralto to go with you.” Here he laughed. 
“ You might sing the duo in Semiramide — Patti and 
Scalchi sang it.” 

You are making fun of me ! ” 

Just a little. But Miss O’Conor, what will 
you sing ? ” 

I wish I knew,” said Katharine, nervously, 
will it be in a large hall ? ” 

No — in a drawing-room.” 

There was a pause. Katharine wanted to ask 
where, but she felt that she had no right to make 
conditions ; and even if it should be in some house 
which she had visited socially, she would have to 
accept the fact, for the sake of getting her chance.” 

have a little song in German,” said Herr 
Teufelfisch, which I should like you to sing ; but 
it is a duo. The contralto is ill, and I know not 
anyone who could sing it with you as it should be 
done. Ach, the sisters have trained you well — but 


290 


A MAEEIAGE OF EEASON. 


then you have fresh blood in you, and the fresh art 
of natural musicians. I sang, when I could sing — 
once at Dublin. Such a reception — such applause ! 
But here is my little song, ‘ The Winter Roses.^ ” 

If you will let me take it home — 

No use,’^ said the music master, who will sing 
the second part ? 

I think I can find one,’’ said Katharine, a faint 
color coming into her cheeks. I can let you know 
by to-morrow afternoon.” 

Herr Teufelfisch looked at her thoughtfully, while 
she went to the piano and tried both parts of The 
Winter Roses.” 

The soft tinkle of the old piano under her touch 
took the old man back to a time when his mother 
had played an air very like that — for the air of the 
Winter Roses ” was a reminiscence of his child- 
hood. 

Katharine ceased playing, and spoke with an 
accent of distress. 

The air is lovely — but I am afraid the contralto 
does not know a word of German.” 

That is bad,” said Herr Teufelfisch, “ musicians 
who do not know German are half blind. You can- 
not understand German music without knowing 
German.” 

Katharine laughed. But what shall I do ? ” 
Translate the words.” 

I never could write a line of verse.” 


A MAERIAGE OF REASON. 


291 


And the good sisters did not teach you that, 
too ? ” said Herr Teufelfisch, with a twinkle in his 
eye. 

They could not make me a poet,” said Katharine. 

Oh, dear ! I wish I knew somebody who could 
translate ^ The W inter Roses.’ ” 

Well, take the song with you, and to-morrow 
bring the song with you. Now sing for me — to- 
morrow we shall talk — at three o’clock — about your 
prospects. Ach, how foolish to give up the roses, 
the luxury and the company of the amiable Mrs. 
Sherwood for the pleasure of teaching the little 
Picketts ! ” 

Katharine sang Titania’s florid air from Mignon, 
and after that several others. After that, she bade 
good-bye to the eccentric old master, and went her 
way, laden with sheets of music. 

She was both hopeful and depressed. Soon, how- 
ever, she forgot herself in a great castle in the air, 
in which she saw Ferdinand Carey and his wife 
re-united, both singing, in German, The Winter 
Roses.” She was aroused from her revery by a 
voice near her. 

There she is, Walter — God bless her ! ” 

She hurried on, startled for a moment. She did 
not remember the voice, but it seemed as if she ought 
to remember it. 

“ Where ? ” asked a voice she remembered very 
well. In another moment a man stood beside her. 

Miss O’Conor!” 


292 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


She saw Walter Dillon beside her, hat in hand. 
The sun made his red hair glow and shine, and 
Katharine was glad to see his honest blue eyes again. 
But, it must be admitted that the cordiality of her 
manner was due to the sudden thought that here 
was a man that perhaps might translate ‘^The Winter 
E-oses.^^ 

Near him stood an old woman, smiling gently at 
her, an old woman in faded black, who held out her 
hand, carefully gloved, but with many stitches in 
the gloves that spoke of the pathetic battle between 
gentility and poverty. 

You have forgotten the old woman to whom 
you gave the rose at the station ? 

Oh, no,^^ said Katharine, catching the kind light 
in the old lady’s eyes. I have not forgotten. I 
am glad the rose gave you pleasure.” 

Let me present you to my aunt, Mrs. Warland,” 
said young Dillon. She has spoken many times 
of your kindness. She was ill and troubled on that 
day,” he added, but she shall be troubled no more.” 
And he looked at the gentle looking old woman very 
affectionately. She has come to live with me.” 

I hope to see her,” said Katharine impulsively. 
^^May I give you my address, Mrs. Warland? 
And, if you will let me, I shall call.” Then she 
paused, somewhat embarassed. If Mrs. Warland 
lived with her nephew, and was not mistress of 
the house could she with propriety call ? She could 
not remember what Mrs. Sherwood’s invaluable 


A MAERIAGE OF EEASON. 


293 


book on social topics might say to that. Mrs. 
Warland relieved her. 

I will call, my dear,” she said ; for, in truth, 
I board in one house, and Walter in another; we 
have no home yet. I will go to your house with 
Walter.” 

‘^Soon, I hope,” said Katharine, forgetting her 
reserve. Could you come to-night? I am so 
anxious to have some words translated from the 
German into English verse, and perhaps Mr. Dillon 
might be kind enough — ” 

I am only an architect,” Dillon answered, smil- 
ing, ^‘not a poet; but Mr. Alfred Devine, whom 
you met at the Worths^ dinner, writes poems. I 
could ask him — ” 

Oh, do,” said Katharine. Do you think he 
could manage it at once? Would you give him 
this sheet of music ? The words are here.” 

Walter Dillon took the roll rather dubiously. He 
began to be afraid he had got himself intp a scrape. 
Suppose Devine should be in one of his moods ” 
and refuse ? A glance at Katharine’s anxious face 
made him resolve to write the verse himself rather 
than disappoint her. How desperate this resolve 
was can be imagined, as he had not even tried a 
rhyme in his life. 

As they stood on the corner, Katharine’s car came 
up, and Dillon could find no excuse for prolonging 
the interview. His aunt smiled gently, almost 
pathetically as Katharine entered the car. Looking 
20 


294 


A MAERIAGE OF REASON. 


at the young man, hopeful, cheerful, and with an air 
of self-reliance, Katharine felt that the pathos was 
real — there was such a contrast between youth look- 
ing towards the sunrise and age with the sunset on 
the horizon facing it. It suddenly occurred to Katha- 
rine that perhaps she had been bold in attacking 
Walter Dillon. But then he did not seem like a 
stranger; and, after all, she forgot her annoyance 
in thinking of the concert and contralto, for, when 
she was in earnest, Katharine was a girl of one idea. 
If Dillon had known this, he would scarcely have 
annoyed his aunt by outbursts of song, as they went 
their way towards her boarding house. He could 
not guess how much ‘^The Winter Roses had to 
do with Katharine’s cordiality. 


CHAPTER XXYII. 


“ The sky is like the water, 

Gray as the hue of lead.” 

K ATHARIXE^S desire to give Mrs. Carey a 
new interest in life, to make her feel that 
she had a right to claim her husband’s affection, 
made many ripples in several lives. If Katharine 
had been less straightforward or more experienced, 
she would probably never have seriously considered 
the idea upon which she was about to act with all 
her might. She had been taught early in life to do 
the good nearest her hand, and, if anybody had 
tried to damp her ardor in the present instance by 
asking her whether she was a sister’s keeper, she 
would have been unutterably pained. This thing 
seemed good to her, and there was nothing for her 
but to put her hand to the plough. She imagined 
that her uncle, of whom she thought very lovingly, 
would have approved of it. And, as she went home 
it gave her a certain pleasure to think that Walter 
Dillon would have a part in it, although that part 
might be only helping in the translation of The 
Winter Roses.” 

If Mrs. Carey had voice enough and training 
enough to sing the second part of the duo, Katha- 

295 


296 


A MAEEIAGE OF EEASON. 


rine was resolved that her husband should hear her 
under the best auspices. She could be made to look 
almost beautiful in some of the finery which Mrs. 
Sherwood had sent to Katharine. In her heart 
Katharine could not help feeling a certain contempt 
for Ferdinand Carey. She said to herself that if 
she were a man, she would see deeper than most 
other men; she could never be caught or repelled 
by mere dress, or a conventional manner, or the 
sweetness of a voice. But, after all, she admitted, 
with a sigh, men were only men, and unlike women, 
had to be pampered with toys ! And so she arranged 
in her mind a glittering array of toys with which 
Ferdinand Carey was to be caught. When she 
reached home she put Mrs. Carey through her 
musical poses, after tea, until that young woman 
became tired and hoarse. 

In the meantime Alfred Devine had been ap- 
proached by Dillon on the subject of the song. 
Dillon found him at the Art Club, where he always 
dined. The moment was auspicious — just after 
dinner. And, as they sat at one of the front win- 
dows, cigars in hand, Devine passed his hand 
through his thick curling hair, and hummed the 
words in German. 

Pretty,^’ he said, humming again, and pretend- 
ing to follow the notes, although he could not read 
one of them. I’ll do it with pleasure, dear boy, 
only, if I like it when it’s done, you’ll have to let 
me sell the words to a magazine.” 


A MAREIAGE OF REASON. 


297 


I don^t know anything about that/’ said Dillon, 
much pleased. Only do it — and if you can, by 
to-morrow night.” 

^^For a lady?” asked Devine, looking under his 
eyelids at Dillon. 

Yes,” said Dillon, “ oh yes — who else would 
want a soprano part in a song?” And then, re- 
turning Devine’s quizzical glance, he added, by way 
of changing the subject : I am looking for a small 
house ; I shall take to domestic life soon, and you 
will not find me up at all hours, at the old place, 
willing to brew all sorts of concoctions for you.” 

Indeed?” asked Devine, smiling and adjusting 
his white tie — for the poet had the reputation of 
living in his evening suit — So soon ? Dear, dear ! 
Has Davey de Grand mont given you a fat contract 
for a new house ? And who is the lady ? ” 

What do you mean ? ” asked Dillon. I wish 
Davey de Grandmont would give me the order; Mrs. 
Worth has almost promised it. I merely said I 
wanted to rent a small house, not that I intended to 
build a place for Davey de Grandmont.” 

And I merely asked who the lady is — of course, 
the lady of the song — I mean the woman of the 
song, since ^ lady ’ has become so awfully common.” 

Dillon understood, and flushed. He did not 
answer at once. He was angry for an instant ; then 
his heart beat a trifle more quickly. If it were 
possible — if Katharine O’Conor would ever think 
of him at all, how bright life would become. But, 


298 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


no — it was not possible. The color faded from his 
face, he bit the end from his cigar, to gain time for 
answering Devine with composure. 

You are wrong,” he said. cannot think of 
marriage. You do not know how poor I am. If 
I were like you, with several thousand a year and a 
reputation which carries you everywhere, I might 
think of it. As it is, I never do think of it,” he 
added, somewhat bitterly, “ though Heaven knows 
I long for a home of ray own.” 

have often wondered, Dillon, whether you 
have ever met anyone — here, don’t flush up again,” 
added Devine, with an odd glitter in his dark eyes, 
which often came there when he was vivisecting his 
friends, to get material for a book. ‘‘There’s a 
strange scrupulousness about you Catholic men — 
when you’re good Catholics — on the subject of love 
which I don’t understand. It’s like Renan’s idea 
of sin — you don’t talk about it. I admire your 
fineness of fibre and your reticence ; but you are 
one of the few men of my acquaintance who have 
never jested on the subject of women or love.” 

“ It is too sacred, and too often profaned,” said 
Dillon, with a great desire to change the subject. 
“ Come, Devine — ” 

“Have you ever met anybody?” pursued the 
poet, maliciously. 

“Yes. One. I spoke to her but little; yet 
Devine, I said to myself that I should always 
think of her — ” Dillon’s face was turned away 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


299 


again, ^^as — as — you^ll think me conceited — as 
Dante thought of Beatrice — as a star in Heaven.” 

Devine did not answer. He looked out into the 
twilight, and said, after a time, with a sigh : 

“ I envy you. The century-has not spoiled you. 
Your Church has a knack of keeping some of you 
fellows very pure in heart. You’re a good fellow, 
Dillon.” 

He made a great racket then, and called a servant 
up to scold him because the cigars were bad ; but 
he ended by giving the man a dollar, in spite of the 
club rules, and saying that they were good. After 
that he sent for black coffee, went to a little table, 
and, having made his curly hair stand almost on 
end, he began to translate the poem. Dillon sat 
near him during the process. There was silence, 
broken only by the thundering of the huge omni- 
buses on Broad street or the sound of an occasional 
cab. Devine tore up at least six pages of note paper, 
and then sent out for two German dictionaries. 
While waiting for them, he refreshed himself by 
asking questions. 

^^What do you want a home for, Dillon?” he 
asked. Let me see — water, daughter ; schon — 
fair, hlume — can’t rhyme flower with fair ! What 
do you want a home for, Dillon ? ” 

My aunt, Mrs. Warland, has — poor old lady — 
come to town. My mother, you know, is living 
with relatives in England ; and so Aunt Betty is 
alone. She has a house in the country, and she 


300 


A MARRIAGE OP REASON. 


loves the old place beyond everything. But some- 
thing failed ; her small income stopped; she couldn't 
even pay her taxes, and so she had to come to me. 
She hasn't another friend on this side of the ocean. 
I'm going to give her half of what I have, so we 
must get a little house." 

Can you afford it ? " asked the prudent poet. 

I have not thought of that," said Dillon, laugh- 
ing. “I'm young, I'm half Irish — and the Marquis 
may ask me to build his house." 

Devine shook his head. ‘^Gluehen — I'm not sure 
what that means ; die rosen — that comes in all right. 
Let the old lady go back to her house." 

“She can't. I wish she could. It broke her heart 
to leave it; almost killed her. She held out till she 
almost starved and froze. Why, her husband and 
children lived and died in it. It is a great barrack 
of a place and out of repair — ‘ Warlands,' you must 
have heard of it. It used to be the ' show ' place in 
Montgomery County. It would take a lot of money 
to make it habitable. No ; she must stay with me. 
There was an incident at the station when she came 
in, that put new life into her ; you might make a 
poem of it. She was sitting there, hopeless, de- 
pressed, resting awhile, and crying, I'm afraid; 
when a girl — God bless her — gave her some 
fine roses — " 

“Die rosen — bluehen — oh, this is awful ! The words 
will not come. Do stop your chatter, Dillon. Here 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


301 


come the dictionaries. They won’t help. More 
coffee, waiter.” 

Dillon was discreetly silent, while the poet ago- 
nized. Suddenly Devine slapped on the book with 
effusion, and read : 

“ The sky is like the water, 

Gray as the hue of lead, 

The fisher’s little daughter 
Weareth black upon her head ; 

The boughs that wave above her 
Are gray with winter frost, 

And all the hearts that love her 
The bridge of death have crossed.” 

“ Haven’t I caught it ? ” asked Devine, tri- 
umphantly. 

It is very cheerless.” 

Quite in the modern style,” said the poet. 

Listen : ” 

“ I hear no children’s voices, — 

Silent the fisher’s maid — 

No gladsome soul rejoices 
Where bold boys used to wade 
In summer, in the sunlight. 

When days were sweet with song. 

And the wide beach was smooth and white, 

Not strewn with wrecks along.” 

It gets worse and worse,” said Dillon ; I wish 
you people would write cheerful poetry.” 

Yes, yes,” said the poet, absent-mindedly. I 
don’t like ^ gladsome soul ’ much — but I can’t help 


302 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


it — ^you’re in such a hurry. Now the soprano takes 
the song up : ” 

“ Ah, see the winter roses, 

Hedged round with greenest moss ; 

Each curled leaf encloses 
A fragrant balm for loss. 

And, though there is no breaking 
Of the grayness overhead, 

They teach of an awakening — 

Of life that is not dead.” 

“ Don’t you think the last line might — ” began 
Dillon. 

No, the last line might said Devine, glaring 
at him, and twisting his immaculate tie under his 
ear. I hate stupid people ! ” 

Dillon whistled. The ways of the poets were 
strange, but he reflected that it would be wrong to 
knock one down, even when he deserved it, for it 
might be a long time before another would see the 
light. 

Listen — and don’t give advice,” snapped Devine. 

“ See how they glow and quiver. 

See how they nod and bend. 

While all the world’s a-shiver. 

They sparks of ruby send ; 

Like firelight in the garden, 

Heart-shaped and red as flame, 

They speak of love’s sweet pardon 
From out their mossy frame.” 

^^And now,” said Devine, the two voices chime 
in — it’s a queer kind of arrangement for a duet — ” 


A MAREIAGE OF KEASON. 


303 


“ Ah, gray and winter weather, 

I wish your days were done. 

My heart and hopes together 
Could open to the sun j 

Ah, roses, winter roses, 

I feel your lesson deep, 

No gray day ever closes 
But leaves us joy to keep ” 

It seems all right,” said Dillon, dubiously, as he 
folded the paper which Devine thrust towards him ; 

but I think that if I were a professional poet, I 
could improve that last line. What does it me — ” 
He said no more ; the ireful look in the poet^s eye 
warned him to go. With a hasty, Thank you,” 
he went down stairs, leaving Devine loudly roaring 
at the waiters. 

In three-quarters of an hour he stood in Mrs. 
Cayre’s little parlor, waiting for Katharine. That 
young lady appeared, smiling, pleased, beautiful, he 
thought. He explained that his aunt was too tired 
to come. 

And you brought the translation ! ” she cried, 
taking Devine’s paper and the sheet of music from 
his outstretched hands. Oh, how good of you, Mr. 
Dillon!” 

All of a sudden she remembered her qualms of 
the morning. Perhaps she had shown an un- 
maidenly eagerness in asking him to the house — 
perhaps he would think her bold. She did not ask 


304 


A MAERIAGE OF REASON. 


him to sit down ; she again said, but with a touch 
of frost in her voice : 

How kind of you, Mr. Dillon.” 

He felt the difference at once ; he saw it in the 
movement with which she turned to the piano, tried 
the first bars of the accompaniment, and murmured 
as if to herself : 

“ Ah, roses, winter roses, 

I feel your lesson deep. 

No gray day ever closes — ” 

Oh, Mr. Dillon — pardon me — will you not take 
a chair ? ” 

You are very kind,” he answered, brushing the 
nap of his hat nervously. I have an engagement 
— with my aunt.” 

Give my love to your aunt, and tell her I hope 
to see her. Musi you go ? Good night.” 

Good night.” 

When he reached the doorstep he felt unreason- 
ably angry. He said to himself that he hated 
“ society girls,” and of all that type the most ob- 
noxious of all was Katharine O’Conor. 

Katharine sat down at the piano, but she did not 
play. 

He heard her sing the first words of the song : 

“ The sky is like the water. 

Gray as the hue of lead.” 

She stopped there; he did not know it, for he 
made his way down the street, with a feeling that 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


305 


his heart was lead. The words ran through his 
mind so continually that at last he did not know 
whether he was angry at them or at Katharine. 

She sat at the piano in a state of doubt and de- 
pression. It occurred to her that she ought not to 
have been so abrupt. He had come a long distance. 
Perhaps she had been rude. He might have stayed 
a few moments, and not have minded her manner. 
An engagement with his aunt ! Nonsense ! Of all 
unreasonable people he was the worst. Twice in 
one day, he had managed to put her in the wrong. 
She would probably never see him again. Well — 
what of that? Then the leaden grayness of the 
words she had been singing seemed to shadow her 
heart: she bowed her head and cried, wishing all 
the time that Mother Ursula had never let her leave 
the convent. 


CHAPTER XXyill. 


Ferdinand Carey^s Wife. 

T he French — who are the Greeks of the modern 
world, and are almost as wise as the old 
Greeks — have a proverb that the unexpected always 
happens. They might add that the impossible some- 
times happens. Katharine’s dream about the re- 
union of Ferdinand Carey and his wife would have 
seemed to most people versed in the ways of the 
world as an impossible thing. They would have 
said that, if Carey had been ashamed of her lack of 
those social qualities which his set most valued, and 
had preferred conventionality to loyalty, he deserved 
to lose her, and that she was better without him ; 
the chances, too, were that, even if Katharine could 
make Mrs. Carey as attractive as she hoped, that 
Ferdinand would not be won by it; again, how 
childish seemed to be her plan about the song. 

Herr Teufelfisch grumbled at Devine’s English 
words ; they were by no means equal to the German, 
he said — by no means — they were, in fact, absurd. 
Nevertheless, he accepted them, and, after Mrs. 
Carey had been presented, put them in rehearsal. 
Mrs. Carey’s voice proved fairly satisfactory ; he 
306 


A MAERIAGE OF REASON. 


307 


said she had not tone enough, she was deficient in 
the egoy and he grunted in a dissatisfied way several 
times during the days of drill that followed the 
introduction. 

Mrs. Carey lost her careworn look ; here was work, 
not hard, grinding work that took her below the 
level of her husband, but work that raised her ; and 
here was work that might mean money, to help in 
the household expenses. 

The drill went on every day for a week, at Herr 
Teufelfisch’s house. He was most exacting. It was 
settled that Katharine was to sing Winter Roses ” 
with Mrs. Carey in the first part of the programme, 
a serenade *by Schubert and the Titania song in the 
second part. Katharine protested that he rehearsed 
her too often. 

^‘It would ruin you to break down,’^ he said. 

Remember, mem fraulein, that your bread and 
butter must depend on your singing; you are no 
longer a young lady amateur, but a professional.’^ 
Why should I break down ? ” asked Katharine, 
with a smile. I am not afraid.” 

Herr Teufelfisch shook his head. “Try that 
bar again. So ! So ! So I So ! Ach, that is 
better ! ” 

At last, he announced that the concert was to be 
at Mrs. Percival’s, one of a series of entertainments 
in honor of the engagement of Mr. Wirt Percival 
and the Lady Alicia St. John. 

Katharine’s heart sank at this. 


308 


A MAREIAGE OF REASON. 


You must let me off,” she said. I really can- 
not face them so soon. It will be too hard. My 
aunt will be there. Oh, it will be dreadful ! Be- 
sides, the Percivals will not like it.” 

They do like it,” said Herr Teufelfisch, offering 
Katharine a pinch of snuff. They think they will 
do you a service by putting money in your purse. 
Besides, your little friend will lose her twenty-five 
dollars if you refuse to sing my ^ Winter Roses ’ 
with her. And, besides, Mr. Ferdinand Carey will 
be there. . So ? ” 

Katharine looked up in a startled way from the 
music she was studying. What could Herr Teufel- 
fisch mean ? Had he guessed ? He chuckled. 

I am old, diesiX frauleiriy I am old, but not there- 
fore a fool. I have heard the story of Mr. Ferdi- 
nand Carey’s marriage. What one thinks nobody 
knows, everybody knows. Your friend is Mrs. 
Carey. You are anxious about her. I put two and 
two together.” 

And you think I am right ? ” 

Right ! Of course — you are right because you 
are good. You sing well ; but, if you sang as well 
as a nightingale, I would not take so much trouble 
with you, if you were not good.” 

It is so soon ! How can I face them all ? ” 

It will be your opportunity,” said Herr Teufel- 
fisch, watching the struggle plainly visible in her face. 

Suppose,” she said, catching at a gleam of hope, 
that they refuse to have me when you tell them — ” 


A MAEKIAGE OF EEASON. 


309 


Herr Teiifelfisch frowned, and she stopped 
speaking. 

I am the director, the master. Mrs. Percival 
will have anybody I choose — or there will be no 
concert. But, see, mein fraulein — you will sing 
^Winter Eoses^ well. Your friend — it is easy to 
teach her that song — will sing it well with you. 
What then ? Mr. Carey will be pleased. He will 
say, ‘ Ah, the little peasant girl I married has be- 
come a singer ; she is graceful ; she has talent ; and, 
if she is well dressed — 

Oh, she shall have a beautiful dress,^’ Katha- 
rine said, one my aunt gave me.^^ 

^^Well — Mr. Carey will like her all the better 
for that, and you will make her happy. I do not 
approve of marriage, as a rule,^^ Herr Teufelfisch 
said, reflectively, it spoils singers ; they like to 
stay at home ; they worry about their children ; but 
when people are married, they should stay married. 
In Vienna there are some who marry according to 
the Protestant rite, that they may obtain divorces ; 
it is wrong,” said the musician with conviction. 

And since Mr. Carey has a wife, it is well that 
there should be no divorce.” 

will sing,” said Katharine, with resolution, 
but it is the hardest thing I ever did.” 

Herr Teufelfisch smiled ; and the rehearsal went 
on. After she had gone, in rather a depressed mood 
(for though Katharine had been trained to a keen 
sense of duty, she hated disagreeable things as 
21 


310 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


heartily as any Sybarite), the old music teacher sat 
down to play a crashing march of his own. 

^^She will be a great singer,’^ he said, laughing. 

When she has made her first plunge, she will not 
care — for it will be the hardest of all. As if I were 
interested in the little Carey — as if I cared for the 
stupid Carey who talked aloud in the adagio of my 
symphony the other night. But she is good, and 
that helps to arrange everything for her.’’ 

Katharine had the unpleasant task of telling Mrs. 
Carey of the ordeal before her. To her surprise, the 
information was received with joy. The gown in- 
tended for her was fitted and bedecked with feverish 
eagerness. 

I shall have my chance to win him back,” she 
said, ^^my only chance, perhaps. Oh, you must 
pray, pray ! ” 

Jenny’s deft fingers assisted materially in chang- 
ing one of Katharine’s beautiful gowns to suit the 
new singer. She was not at all nervous, and at the 
rehearsal after Katharine had told her what she was 
to expect, she sang so brilliantly that Herr Teufel- 
fisch began to take an interest in her. 

At last the evening came, and on the afternoon 
preceding it, Katharine was moved by a little note 
which came to her accompanied by a huge box. The 
note was from Mrs. Percival ; she told Katharine 
briefly that she would send the carriage for her at 
seven o’clock, and that Mr. Percival begged leave 
to present her with a bouquet of lilies of the valley. 


A MAERIAGE OF REASON. 


311 


Mrs. Percival added that Mr. Sherwood was ex- 
pected to arrive home in time for the concert. 

Katharine^s heart bounded ; she would see her 
uncle ; he, at least, would sympathize with her, if 
her aunt had not prejudiced him. She would sing 
her best, and please him, at any rate. 

The carriage did not come until eight o’clock. 
Two hours before that time, Mrs. Carey had been 
waiting, attended by the excited Jenny ; according 
to the idea of her sister, she was a vision of beauty. 
And certainly Katharine’s soft, white dress, with its 
touches of silver lace, helped to bring out her good 
points. She held her head well, and Katharine 
laughed, as she showed her how to crook her elbows 
in the latest English fashion. Mrs. Carey took it 
all seriously. 

‘‘You are much more like the sort of woman my 
aunt admires than I am,” Katharine said. “ That’s 
the very crook of the elbows the Lady Alicia has. 
Isn’t it funny ? ” 

But this interlude of nonsense passed ; the awful 
moment of departure came. Katharine seized her 
music and the flowers, and the two debutantes drove 
away in the Percival carriage. 

There had been a council of war at Mrs. Perci- 
val’s previous to the concert. Mr. Percival had 
been for asking Katharine to the dinner that was 
to precede it; but Mrs. Sherwood, who declared 
that she would not meet a “ professional singer ” 
socially, had carried the day. The Lady Alicia 


312 


A MAKEIAGE OF REASON. 


was delighted at the prospect of seeing Katharine 
again. Mrs. Sherwood had one fear. This was 
that her husband would return in time for the con- 
cert. He did not come ; the danger that he might 
make a reconciliation with Katharine was averted. 

Mrs. Percival kissed Katharine warmly, and 
greeted her friend politely. As for Mr. Percival, 
he declared that he would give a concert every 
week, if he could only get Katharine to come. 

And I want to tell you, ma’am,” he said with a 
humorous twinkle in his eyes, that I’ve made the 
acquaintance of one of the priests at St. John’s — and 
who knows what may come of it ? ” 

Katharine found herself in a very comfortable 
glow, in spite of her fears. A little sympathy is 
very encouraging; it is a great steadier of the 
nerves. After all, why should it be harder to sing 
for pay than when one is not paid ? she asked herself. 

In the little dressing room, there was a group of 
other singers. Herr Teufelfisch presented them, but 
she could not remember their names. She could 
hear the flutter of the waiting auditors. A mingling 
of scents and the soft buzz of talk came in through 
the half-drawn portiere. 

He is there ! ” whispered her friend. I heard 
his voice just then.” 

Be calm, my dear,” Katharine said, forgetting 
her nervousness. Be calm — or you will spoil all ! ” 

The overture was over. A well-bred trickling — 
it would be absurd to call it a burst — of applause 


A MAERIAGE OF REASON. 


313 


greeted Katharine. She sang well ; Herr Teufel- 
fisch nodded approvingly, and secretly said that she 
was a promising singer. 

She forgot herself at the sight of Mrs. Carey when 
she returned to the dressing room. The supreme 
moment for another was more to her than her own 
success. She saw that excitement and suspense had 
transfigured Ferdinand Carey’s wife ; her eyes 
glowed, her cheeks were Hushed. She stood alone 
near the long window of the little room, while some- 
body sang Proch’s variations in a high soprano ; 
Katharine went to her, and took her hand. Neither 
spoke. There was the sound of well-bred applause, 
and then came more vocal gymnastics. After this, 
like dew on a hot night, followed some Polish airs, 
national, intense, beautiful, of which the harp seemed 
part rather than the mere expression of them. 

^^Now!” 

Mrs. Carey made the sign of the cross, and caught 
up her sheet of music. In a moment, she and Katha- 
rine were making the low, sweeping courtesy of the 
convent. 

Katharine saw Ferdinand Carey before her, just 
in front of Mrs. Sherwood, who had her fan before 
her face. Carey did not move a muscle. Amaze- 
ment showed itself in his eyes ; then he became pale. 
She did not dare to abstract her mind any longer 
from the music. She had Herr Teufelfisch to please 
now, not the auditors only. He finished the prelude 
to Winter Roses.” Katharine took up the note. 


314 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


It is well,” the musician said. I am afraid of 
the other one.” 

The other one disappointed him ; soft, deep, true, 
her voice took up the second part ; and, after that, 
the ensemble,^’ as Herr Teufelfisch said, “ was wun- 
derschonJ^ 

He reflected, with some satisfaction, that the suc- 
cess of his song meant a great deal^f money in his 
pocket; for many people would buy it. 

Miss O’ Conor will have fame,” he said to Mrs. 
Percival ; she will be heard everywhere — and so 
will my songs. So ? ” 

After this song, Ferdinand Carey made his way 
to the little room, from which the other singers had 
gone to supper. Katharine and his wife were there, 
expectant, fearful. He bowed to Katharine, and 
took his wife’s hands in his. 

Can you forgive ? ” he said. 

I have forgiven long ago,” she answered. I 
am happy now ; is not that enough ? ” 

He offered her his arm. And, without a word 
the two left, to join the party in the supper-room. 
The dimness in Katharine’s eyes disappeared in a 
laugh. They had forgotten her. She dropped her 
bouquet and looked after them. How quickly joy 
blots out sorrow, she thought ! And how strange 
that a man whom his wife loved so intensely, could 
have forsaken her so heartlessly, to be brought back 
to her by a new dress, a few clear notes of music, 
and other people’s admiration. If a man’s love was 


A MAREIAGE OF REASON. 


315 


like that, surely it was a poor thiug. She knew 
what Wirt PercivaPs was — a mixture of vanity and 
calculation. Lord Marchmont’s seemed to be all 
calculation, and Ferdinand Carey’s was equally 
heartless and more childish. As she looked through 
the gauze portiere, she saw the gay groups crossing 
the hall — the men attentive, the women talking 
rapidly. How pretty it looked ! And yet how hol- 
low it all was, if the men were like the men she knew. 

The excitement of her work was over. Her 
climax had come too soon. She had brought these 
two together, made them happy, and they had for- 
gotten her ! She thought it all over, and recalled 
the love in A Sister’s Story.” That was worth 
living for — but there was none of it in the world. 
Mrs. Craven had invented it, to make her story in- 
teresting. 

She was aroused by a step near her. 

“ Mrs. Percival has sent me for you,” said a voice 
she knew. 

Oh, Mr. Dillon — is it you ? ” 

Yes,” Dillon answered, thrusting aside the cur- 
tain, ^‘Mrs. Percival remembered me at the last 
moment.” 

He looked to be the embodiment of cheerfulness, 
and his white tie and expanse of shirt front made 
his cheeks seem redder and his eyes bluer. 

His appearance jarred on Katharine’s aesthetic 
sense ; she would have preferred somebody more in 
the Hamlet style at that moment. 


316 


A MAREIAGE OF REASON. 


I congratulate you. Mr. Devine’s words went 
well. Didn’t you ^flat’ a little in the fourth bar?” 

No,” said Katharine, sharply, you might 
know better. Herr Teufelfisch would have stopped 
the accompaniment, if we had ^flatted’ the least bit.” 

Oh, I didn’t know,” said Dillon, airily. I 
know you hate compliments, so I just tried the other 
thing, that’s all. Come to supper with me, and all 
will be forgiven.” 

Katharine took his arm : the supper-room was 
radiant with lights and flowers and all the Percival 
gold plate. In the centre of the horse-shoe, stood 
Ferdinand Carey, with his wife ; he was presenting 
her to the people about him, and Katharine saw 
Biddy kiss her on both cheeks. She felt an impulse 
of jealousy. Ferdinand Carey’s wife, whom she had 
done so much for, was about to be carried away from 
her by the very people who an hour ago would have 
passed her by unnoticed. 

But Biddy came flying towards her. 

Oh, Kit,” she said, what a romance ; and how 
glad I am it wasn’t Wirt, after all. What a pretty 
little thing she is ! And so you brought it all about, 
you dear ! How happy you must be ! Mr. Dillon ? 
Thank you ; I will take an ice. In two weeks, my 
dear, we are to be married ; and you must be a brides- 
maid. I see by your eyes that you intend to say no ! 
Nonsense ! You may sing for a living or even keep 
a shop, but that will not make you any the less 
Katharine O’Conor — my own Kit ! ” 


A MAEEIAGE OF EEASON. 


317 


Katharine was pleased, in spite of herself ; and 
young Dillon was attentive. After a time, Mrs. 
Percival came up to her. 

So you have arranged matters,^’ she said. 

I helped,” Katharine said. They seem to 
have arranged matters themselves.” 

I suppose it is for the best,” Mrs. Percival said. 
^^It would have simplified matters, if she had died. 
But she’s presentable ; I did not expect that.” 
Katharine made an impatient movement. 

How can you talk that way, Mrs. Percival ? 
Are souls and hearts nothing ? Don’t you see that 
your conventionalities are the absurdest pretences ? 
Who really cares whether your brother married a 
cook or the daughter of a wholesale grocer or any- 
body you please? You are trying to build a basis 
of aristocracy on thinnest air — and it does harm. 
Mrs. Carey is as worthy to be of your society as any 
woman here.” 

And this to a hostess from a guest !” said Mrs. 
Percival, sarcastically. 

She is right ! ” said Mr. Percival. That’s the 
way we talk in Duluth. If Mr. Dillon will look 
after my wife. I’ll take you over to that alcove for 
a glass of frappe. It’s cooling — and you need it, 
my dear young woman. By the way, I have made 
the acquaintance of one of your priests at St. John’s. 
I like him and what he tells me.” 

I am so glad,” said Katharine. I’m afraid I 
was cross with Mrs. Percival.” 


318 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


She can stand it ; she’s sometimes cross with me, 
but my father left me such an angelic temper I can 
never answer back ; you did it for me.” 

Mrs. Percival hastily joined them. 

Your aunt wants you, Miss O’Conor. A mes- 
sage has come for her and you. Mr. Sherwood was 
hurt in a railway wreck — slightly, I hope. He 
has asked for you.” 

Mrs. Carey came to her, too. 

I must go with you — I will not leave you with 
your aunt. Do let me be with you in your sorrow.” 

The three went to Kenwood almost in silence. 
Mrs. Carey had her happy thoughts ; the others had 
nothing to say to each other. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 


Kathakine^s Confidant. 


ARCUS SHERWOOD had been in the 



rear car of an accommodation train he 


had taken, to get across the country, to reach a 
station from which he could travel home com- 
fortably. He was anxious to reach home — anxious 
to heal the breach between his wife and Katharine, 
and anxious to see the girl who had become as a 
daughter to him and who had begun to make his 
home homely.” 

A rail was broken — no one knows how — the train 
went down an embankment, and Mr. Sherwood was 
brought home two hours later than he expected to 
reach there. The doctors said there was no hope 
for him. His wife shrank back, as she entered the 
room ; there was the beginning of a great change in 
his face. His eyes brightened. 

It has come,” he said, it has come at last. 
Thank Heaven, you will not want. And you, 
Katharine — kneel here and pray. I should like to 
see a priest — ” 

Foolishness ! ” exclaimed his wife. You mil 
live ; you mmt live — I shall have the proper kind 


319 


320 


A MAERIAGE OF REASON. 


of clergyman at once. A priest ! What would 
people say?’^ 

I am dying,” he answered, earnestly. 

She did not answer ; she could not doubt it. 

The butler had heard Mr. Sherwood’s words ; he 
started at once for the church. 

I remember the priest who risked his life to 
give something to the boy who was drowning. I 
remember ; it comes back now — I have been too 
busy — but I always remembered that. Katharine, 
say a prayer ! ” 

Katharine, kneeling beside him, began the Credo 
in a low voice; he followed her. She added the 
Act of Contrition ; his voice faltered, and was 
still. 

When the priest came, he was dead ; and Mrs. 
Sherwood locked herself in her room ; she would 
not see Katharine ; there was now no consolation 
for her in this world, and she did not care for the 
world beyond. 

Katharine, after her uncle’s funeral, went back 
to her work. Ferdinand Carey took a house in the 
suburbs and sent Jenny Mavrick and her brother 
off to school. Katharine found a boarding-house 
near the old music master’s ; her work must be her 
world now. Fortunately, she was near a church ; 
she divided herself between religion and art. 

Ach, it is lovely ! ” the old musician said to his 
pupil ; she will be an old maid ; she cares not for 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


321 


the idipt-fools of men ; she will sing my songs, and 
perhaps an opera.” 

Mrs. Sherwood refused to see Katharine. She 
was furious against her. Biddy was too much en- 
gaged with the preparations for her wedding, which 
was to take place in the Worth drawing-rooms, with 
the British minister to represent Lord Bolingbroke, 
who could not come. Her uncle’s recent death would, 
of course, prevent Katharine from being present. 
And Mrs. Percival really could not ask her coach- 
man to drive so far beyond the lines of her social 
bailiwick. She left cards twice; and that ended 
her attentions to Katharine. Mother Ursula wrote 
frequent letters, full of affection, warning and advice. 
Katharine was lonely ; but she loved the bustle of 
the world; she enjoyed with an intense delight the 
overcoming of the difficulties in her art. Sometimes 
she longed for the convent, but it was with the 
longing of a tired child, not the love that fills the 
heart of the woman who has the vocation to the 
highest state of life. Katharine knew this; she 
had been too well instructed in the meaning of the 
word vocation not to know it. 

Dillon had called several times. She had sung 
for him, and they had quarrelled; she began to 
suspect that he did not care for music. Besides, 
she could not receive him many times alone in the 
parlor of her boarding-house. The fact that she 
was independent made her all the more careful of 
the proprieties. And Mother Ursula’s strict notions 


322 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


on the question of the chaperon — notions which, as 
she had seen, coincided with those of Mrs. Sher- 
wood and Mrs. Percival — had become a part of her 
social code. 

A short break in her prayers and work was made 
by a visit to the Careys. Their 'house was very 
simple, but very perfect in its way. She found 
Ferdinand engaged in copying an old French air, 
to be set to some words of his own, for his wife. 
Mrs. Carey sat in a low basket chair, waiting until 
he should give her the notes, with a mandolin in her 
hand. She jumped up and kissed Katharine, utter- 
ing a little cry of pleasure. Ferdinand rose, too, a 
little awkwardly. He seemed to have changed. 
His dress and manner had lost the air of being a 
bad imitation of the English ; he was more natural ; 
and the look of unrest had gone from his face. His 
wife hastened to make tea on the little brass tripod 
near the grate fire ; she did it so gracefully and so 
deftly, that Katharine thought Ferdinand had ample 
reason for his glance of admiration. When she was 
asked to sing, she gave Lead, Kindly Light.’’ 

feel that — I feel that,” said Carey, when 
she had finished it. There has at last come to 
me a desire to grasp something more real than 
earth. We are happy now, but it seems so unreal; 
and then how can I expect to be so blessed,” 
he added, humbly, after my selfishness. Great 
Heavens ! Miss O’Conor, how I despise myself for 
giving way to artificial and corrupt conventionality. 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


323 


I think it was the spectacle of your sincerity among 
all that ^ society^ nonsense, that made me think. 
Do you remember the talk we had about Cardinal 
Newman — about the song you have just sung?” 

Very well,” said Katharine, smiling. ^^Butl 
don’t think you saw much of me.” 

Sufficient,” he answered, to show me that my 
old life needed to be cast away as — as — as a snake 
changes its skin.” 

Katharine laughed. 

And after that does the snake become an eagle 
and face the sun ? ” 

Not usually. My simile was bad,” he answered, 
smiling. 

There might be a miracle,” said Katharine. 
“ Believe me, Mr. Carey, you will find yourself at 
rest, and feel a new life in you, if you will look into 
the sources that have given your wife patience all 
these years.” 

^^The vita nuova of Dante,” he added, half in 
earnest. Well, — I have thought of it. It would 
make my wife the happiest woman in the world, 
and perhaps penitence would drive out remorse.” 

Katharine was silent. She had a horror of speech 
in serious moments. After a time, Mrs. Carey came 
— perhaps she had purposely left them together — 
and the two sang again Winter Roses.” 

Ferdinand Carey followed the Light ; shortly 
after Wirt Percival’s marriage he was received into 
the Church. Katharine did not meet him and his 


324 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


wife again until after this event had taken place. 
If they had been permitted, they would have made a 
statue of her, and burned a lamp before it. There 
was consolation for Katharine in the result of her 
plan. She had done her best, honestly, according 
to her light ; but the very happiness of these people 
seemed to accentuate her loneliness. Herr Teufel- 
fisch had become a ruthless master ; and sometimes 
Katharine was tired even of music. His rage for 
technique took all the poetry out of it ; and music 
without sentiment was nothing to her. She sang at 
musicales, and sang well. She earned as much money 
as she needed, but she hated the work. The money 
made her independent, and gave her the means of 
helping people who required her help. And yet she 
looked forward to a long life — in youth life seems 
long — with a dreary feeling of dislike. Always to 
be facing a crowd of unknown people, always to be 
taking care of one’s voice, always to be practising 
new music — it was hateful. She envied the young 
women she saw around her in their quiet, frugal 
homes, out of reach of that public whose slave she 
was. 

She spent the eve of the Lady Alicia’s wedding 
day at the Percivals’, and went to early Mass with 
the prospective bride. It seemed very sad to Katha- 
rine that Biddy should kneel with her at the altar 
rail in the early morning light, without Wirt. The 
Lady Alicia was subdued, nervous, depressed. As 
they went home from the church she suddenly said : 


A MAEKIAGE OF REASON. 


326 


Kit, I envy you. Why wasn’t I born an Ameri- 
can? You are free. If Bolingbroke wasn’t here, I 
believe I’d back out ! ” 

Katharine kissed her friend impulsively. What 
was the use of talking — Biddy wanted sympathy, 
not advice. 

The function in the Worth drawing-rooms was 
as imposing as flowers, upholsterers and the rest 
could make. Mrs. Sherwood, being in mourning, 
could not assist. She revenged herself by sending 
the Lady Alicia a magnificent pearl necklace, which, 
as she repeatedly announced, had been intended for 
Katharine. But Katharine did not feel this blow. 
The wedding seemed to her to be a sad travesty on 
what a marriage should be. Wirt was indifferent, 
except so far as his vanity was satisfied, and Biddy 
cared only for the ease and luxury that her marriage 
would bring. Katharine went home before the 
maimed rites” of the marriage began. There 
seemed to be a cloud over everything. Was wealth 
and social consideration, fine dresses and luxurious 
carriages, and unlimited roses and visits to Paris, 
worth such a sacrifice? For a moment she doubted; 
for example is a great persuader, and Katharine had 
much respect for Biddy, and more affection for her. 
She thought it all over, and answered — No. Better 
a lonely life than such slavery — better work, and 
hard work, than a marriage at whose ceremonies 
no ring could be blessed. She felt restless after she 
had gone home ; she could not practice ; she could 
22 


326 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


not read. It occurred to her that it would be well 
to show respect for her aunt by calling on her at 
Kenwood ; and she went. 

Mrs. Sherwood’s eyes sparkled, as she read the 
name on the card. She determined to add a last 
pang to the heart of the girl who had dared to defeat 
her plans, and so she wrote on her own large card ; 

You need not come here expecting anything 
from me. No will has been found ; I suppose that’s 
what you want to know.” 

Katharine blushed. What sort of a woman could 
her aunt be to send such a message open to the eyes 
of a servant ? Her first impulse was to go upstairs 
and to pour a torrent of words into her aunt’s ears 
— to defend herself, to denounce a worldliness that 
amounted to rapacity, to cover her aunt with con- 
fusion; but she restrained heuself, with a short 
prayer. She tried to smile at the old servant, who 
opened the door respectfully for her, but failed 
miserably. She indemnified herself for her Chris- 
tian reticence by a brief dialogue, in which she men- 
tally overcame her aunt and brought her to a sense 
of the hollowness of her beliefs in an eloquently 
sarcastic series of speeches. 

Once in her little room, she determined to get rid 
of the intolerable sting of her aunt’s insult in some 
way or other. She blessed her capacity for work, 
and determined to do something very hard. Herr 


A MAREIAGE OF REASON. 


327 


Teufelfisch had given her a wonderful MS. compo- 
sition of the great tone master, Leschetizky. Mother 
Ursula had often smiled at her impatience of instru- 
mental exercises and her patience with vocal work. 
She determined to conquer the difficulties made by 
the great master of Paderewski. She soon forgot 
everything but the almost preternatural obstacles in 
her way. But she could not manage it, and, after a 
hard struggle, she gave it up — she would never be 
able to amaze Mother Ursula and Herr Teufelfisch 
with her complete mastery of this tone-poem. She 
sat by her window, and looked down at the passing 
street-cars, at this hour in the early evening laden 
with crowds of people going home from work. 
Each of that crowd had his history, his struggles, 
his triumphs, his defeats — and God watched over 
them all ! Somehow the thought gave her comfort. 
She raised the window ; Spring was coming. There 
was a vague warmth in the air. The voices of little 
children, pent during the long, cold winter nights, 
when darkness fell without twilight, came to her 
ears. 

She realized for the first time that she was depen- 
dent on the work of her own hands now that her 
uncle was dead. No doubt whatever had been left 
her by her father had been used up in giving her an 
education, she said to herself. Well, she had that; 
she could sew, she could bake, she could do a dozen 
womanly things as well as any woman could do them, 
or perhaps better; and, above all, she had been 


328 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


taught that the household work done by the Queen 
of Heaven, for the God of Heaven and Earth, was 
neither degrading nor irksome, provided it were done 
for His honor and glory; and even if her voice 
should fail — and, like many other singers, she had 
as great a horror of this as of sudden death — she 
would not be entirely dependent. She had admitted 
that the words of her aunt had a double sting, 
because, unworldly as she was, she cherished a hope 
that her uncle might have remembered that, after 
all, she was an orphan without a home. He had 
not done so ; she banished all disappointment from 
her, and knelt to say a prayer for his soul. She 
arose, looked down again at the twilight street, and 
determined to take a walk, at least to the end of the 
street. 

The cool, evening air — the Spring softness was 
gone now — revived her spirits. She went over in 
her thoughts the difficulties of the Leschetizky tones ; 
this was one of her ways of improving her mind. 
Suddenly somebody brushed against her. 

I beg pardon ! the somebody said ; it was 
Dillon, hurrying along with his hand full of orange 
and lemon-colored daffodils in whose cups an Ameri- 
can robin might almost have bathed. 

Oh, Miss O’Conor he exclaimed. She was 
glad to see him ; but, according to her ethics, that 
was a good reason for being as cool as possible. 
She nodded rather stiffly; he turned to walk by 
her side. 


A MAREIAGE OF REASON. 


329 


These are for you,” he said, giving her the 
flowers. I intended to leave them — ” 

^‘And to run away ! ” she said, sarcastically. 

Well, not exactly ; to leave a card,” he answered, 
somewhat abashed by her tone. I felt that perhaps 
you would not care to see me, as my aunt was not 
with me.” 

How prudent ! ” she said. I did not know 
that you men needed chaperons. Is it a new cus- 
tom?” 

Dillon was not usually knocked off his conversa- 
tional feet, but this had the efiect of silencing him. 
They walked to the corner, and turned. 

I am fond of daffodils but these are rather large,” 
she said. 

I shall have a consultation with Mother Nature 
about some smaller ones. I will mention that Miss 
O^Conor is dissatisfied with the ordinary daffodils. 
Shall I say good evening ? ” He raised his hat. 

“ If you like,” she said. Probably your aunt is 
waiting dinner for you ; and, as you have no chape- 
ron, I can’t ask you to dine with me. But don’t go 
yet ; I am very unhappy, Mr. Dillon.” 

Dillon forgot everything but her voice; the 
sarcasm had gone out of it; he was her servant 
at once. Katharine had been restless because she 
had no confidant; she had found an excellent 
listener. 

^^And so you are not rich?” he asked, with a 
tremor in his voice. 


330 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


I am very poor/^ she said, but I really don’t 
mind it — the Sisters did not bring me up to be a 
fine lady. I think I shall make a capital poor girl.” 

His tone had changed ; he was gay, sympathetic, 
and serious by turns until eight o’clock struck, and 
he bade her good-bye at her door after a long walk. 

She is not rich !” he said, she is alone in the 
world, and I — ” he was murmuring to himself, as he 
went home, and I must be rich in order to give her 
alV^ He sighed a little, and then hummed Winter 
Roses.” 

Katharine went to her room, strangely elated. 
Mr. Dillon was interesting ; she would go to see his 
aunt on Saturday. 


CHAPTER XXX. 


The Glove. 


UXE came. There were no more concerts in 



town. Herr Teufelfisch was about to take his 


annual trip to Vienna, to confer with the supreme 
Leschetizky,” and he persuaded Katharine that it 
would be a wise thing to spend these months in one 
of the German or Italian cities, where, according to 
his view, the only great singing masters lived. He 
did not recommend Vienna, but Munichr, where he 
had a sister, or Naples, where his brother taught, 
might do. In either of these cities, he could secure 
friends for Katharine. She was almost persuaded 
to go ; she had a little money, for she had been 
saving of late, and Herr Teufelfisch assured her that 
this was the best investment she could make. The 
journey had no charms for her; she did not care 
specially for Dresden or Naples; she would have 
preferred to spend the summer in one of the many 
beautiful and quiet green nooks near the city. But, 
since her voice must be the one gift which was to 
gain her way in the world, she determined to culti- 
vate it to the utmost. She made her preparations 
with some reluctance. The city was at its best in 


331 


332 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


June, and she had learned to love it. The scent of 
the honeysuckle filled the street in which she lived, 
and the air was balm. Biddy wrote just at this 
time, only a few lines urging her to come to London ; 
little was said, except this. Katharine thought it 
ominous. This was not the way in which young 
and happy brides generally write. 

Katharine had met Mr. Percival one day as she 
was coming out of St. John’s Church. He held out 
his hand, with a look of genuine pleasure. 

Well, my dear,” he said, where have you 
been?” 

At home — hard at work,” she answered. 

He shook his head, and looked at her with his 
keen eyes. 

You are worried, I can see that. Now, let us 
be gay. We shall have a great spree, and a good 
talk. Shall it be soda-water at Wanamaker’s, or an 
ice at Blank’s ? ” 

Katharine laughed ; it was pleasant to see Mr. 
Percival again. 

The ice, please,” she said. And I shall enjoy a 
talk. How is Mrs. Percival ? ” she asked, as they 
turned into Chestnut street. 

Well. Busy. Great charity strawberry festival 
for abandoned dogs at Germantown. I don’t know 
whether the abandoned dogs or the festival is at 
Germantown — that’s the way the cards read. Why 
don’t you come to see Mrs. Percival ? ” 

She never comes to see me.” 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


333 


^‘Oh, she can’t — too busy. Why, even I am 
abandoned for the dogs ! Society is the modern 
Moloch. There is not a better woman in the world 
than my wife, when she lets her heart direct her. 
But this society business has so enervated her, that 
I don’t think anything but a stunning blow will 
ever break the crust. She is fond of you ; but — oh, 
don’t let us talk of. the shams and the artifices. 
Come and see us, when you can. I have read all 
the books the priest recommended to me. But do 
you know. Miss O’Conor, your religion frightens 
me. One should have to be awfully good to be a 
Catholic. Think of what the Mass means ; I have 
just been reading Percy Fitzgerald’s Jewels of the 
Mass, a lovely book, and — but here we are at 
Blank’s.” 

Katharine and Mr. Percival seated themselves 
at one of the tables, and were served with one of 
their unequaled ices, in which Mr. Percival, like 
all good Philadelphians, took a proper pride, and 
in which the pensive Katharine was not without 
interest. 

This is nice,” she said. 

“Don’t you regret the luxurious life at Ken- 
wood ? ” 

“ Oh, no,” she said, “ I should be content in my 
work, if I were near some friend. Mrs. Carey has 
gone away ; she is happy ; she no longer needs me. 
Biddy is married — ” 

Mr. Percival’s face changed. 


334 A MAERIAGE OF REASON. 

^^The Worths had a cable from her to-day. 
Wirt is coming back. There has been a nasty row. 
Your Biddy has a temper, I fancy. They didnT 
get along well in London; Wirt is coming back 
alone. He has dropped all the St. John crowd ; 
they stick to the Lady Alicia, of course.’’ Katha- 
rine dropped her spoon. 

Oh, Mr. Percival ! Is this true ? Poor Biddy ! 
Oh, how sad, how sad ! ” 

I don’t think a girl who marries for money, and 
merely likes the appendage to it called a husband 
will suffer much.” 

Oh, yes, Biddy will — her pride will be touched 
at such a desertion.” 

Mr. Percival shrugged his shoulders. 

^^Such marriages are mockeries. My wife has 
prayed long for my conversion ; but it humiliates 
me to think that she should have married me and 
concealed all her life her ideas about the Mass. It 
made a terrible gulf ; and the Lady Alicia ought 
never to have married Wirt. A marriage where 
there is such a terrible divergence in essentials is a 
mistake — unless the wife is an angel of good example 
and the husband a model of sincerity. Do you ever 
see your aunt ? ” 

Never.” 

“Is not that rather ungrateful? I see by the 
papers — I saw, rather, for it was about a month 
ago — that she had given you a lot of money.” 

“ Oh, no,” said Katharine, “ there was no will.” 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


335 


cried Mr. Percival, staring at her. 

No ; my uncle forgot it ; and my aunt was, I 
think, a little unkind.^’ 

^'Unkind!” Mr. Percival cried. ^^Do you mean 
to say — well, well — and praises from the newspapers 
and from all sorts of folks on her generosity. I 
always longed to have a good chance to talk to that 
woman, and 1^11 do it this very day. There was a 
will, for your uncle wrote to me from Boston the 
week before he died, naming me as an executor. 
How do you live ? ” 

I sing,” said Katharine, “ I am a working girl, 
and I like it, or I should like it, if 1 only had some 
friends.” 

Mr. Percival looked at her, and brought his fist 
down hard on the table. 

And to think of my wife’s expecting me to enter 
the Catholic Church while she is going on in this 
heartless way and neglecting the only good Catholic 
I ever have known ! I have a good mind just to 
stay outside of the church, to spite her. It will 
serve her right not to find me in Heaven, if she 
ever gets there ! ” 

Katharine was obliged to smile at the absurdity 
of this ; Mr. Percival laughed, too. 

“ Come,” he said, finish your ice, and ask no 
questions ; I shall see your aunt at once, and be at 
your house to-night with a message.” 

Katharine bade him good-bye. On the way home, 
she thought, strange to tell, not of Biddy, or the will, 


336 


A MAREIAGE OF EEASON. 


but of young Dillon. She had called on his aunt, 
but she had not seen him. Herr Teufelfisch, who 
occasionally saw Mr. Devine, told her that he had 
been ill ; she knew nothing more. She wondered 
whether he were better or not; possibly his aunt 
might call, to tell her. 

The truth was, that Dillon had been ill for some 
weeks, of typhoid fever. And as he grew better, 
he heard from Devine that Katharine was rich again. 
There was no hope for him now ; the bright vision 
must pass away from him. He could not ask her 
to be his wife now. He looked facts in the face. 
He was a struggling architect ; he knew, or thought 
he knew, what young women demanded, especially 
young women of fashion. If Katharine were rich, he 
could never dare to ask her — he would never see her 
again. People declared that she was rich ; and she 
would forget him, but he would never forget her. 
Opposite his couch during all his sickness, there lay, 
on the little table, a glove she had worn — a little 
brown thing, somewhat worn, which Katharine had 
not missed. His aunt had asked during the latter 
days, when his health had begun to mend, if she might 
send for Katharine. Like most of her sex, she was 
a matchmaker at heart ; and the incident of the glove 
had not escaped her. Her nephew had protested 
against her sending to Katharine so earnestly that 
she began to believe that there had been a quarrel. 
This made her hopeful. Her experience had taught 
her that quarrels are not, in love affairs, killing frosts. 


A MAKRIAGE OF REASON. 


337 


On this June afternoon, she had watched Dillon 
as he sat under the grape vine arbor in the little 
yard at the back of the house. Color was again in 
his cheek and brightness in his eye ; but he did not 
speak much. He was lying back in a steamer chair, 
looking at the sky and humming “ Winter Roses,” 
when his aunt made up her mind. She saw that he 
was not happy ; at his age and in her experienced 
mind, there could only be one cause. She looked at 
him, thin, wasted, pensive, in the gray suit much 
too big for him now; and she called a little boy who 
was coming from school. That little boy took a note 
to Katharine. 

After that, the aunt took up her sewing, and waited. 
She loved her nephew and she loved Katharine, and 
perhaps they — well, she would soon know. 

When Katharine reached home after her talk with 
Mr. Percival, she found the note. It contained a 
request that she would call without delay on Dillon^s 
aunt. She took a great deal of trouble with her toilet, 
and pinned a June rose on her black dress. In a 
short time she was ringing the bell of the little house. 
The servant admitted her ; she saw with a sense of 
disappointment that only her friend, the aunt, was in 
the parlor. But the disappointment did not last long. 
Dillon came in slowly, at the aunt^s summons. And 
then the sweet-looking old lady suddenly disap- 
peared. 

^^You have been ill!” Katharine exclaimed, in 
horror. “ Oh, why did you not let me know ? ” 


338 A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 

Why ? he asked, with some bitterness. I 
know the tenor of your society too well, to commit 
such a breach of propriety. What right had I? 
Heaven knows, I was very lonely — but you were 
the last person I should have thought of asking 
to come here. Outside of Devine and the priest, 
nobody came.” 

I have come.” 

“ You are very kind.” 

But when your aunt sent for me, she did not 
tell me that you were ill — I must be honest about 
it,” she added, hardened by his tone of reproach. 

My aunt sent for you ! ” he looked at her, and 
his tone softened. And you came. But I wish 
you had not — I can’t tell you why — but I wish you 
had not — your face had almost ceased to haunt me ; 
I was gaining peace ; but now — ” 

Now?” 

The door bell tinkled. 

Dillon was still weak ; and the appearance of 
Katharine had shaken his nerves. In his ordinary 
health, he would have been suave, cool, sarcastic ; 
at least, he would have known how to hide his 
feelings. That tinkle of the bell reminded him 
that at any moment this interview, so delightful, so 
sad, so irritating, might end. 

^^May I show you to the garden?” he asked. 

You are fond of flowers, and that ringing preludes 
the coming of someone probably to see my aunt.” 

He led the way through the passage to the long, 
narrow, old fashioned garden, bordered with box. 


A MARRIAGE OP REASON. 


339 


and sweetened and colored by clumps of carnations 
and roses. The sunlight coming red from the West 
cast the flickering arabesques of vine leaves and ten- 
drils on the brick pavement beneath the arbor. 
Katharine noticed how thin his hands were, and 
how loosely his clothes set upon him. A thrill of 
pity ran through her heart. Dillon the strong, the 
witty, the self-reliant, was a different man from 
Dillon the nervous, dependent, sad man before her. 
It seemed wonderful that one man could show these 
two phases. She felt a new interest in him, and, as 
if in a flash, she wondered for the first time whether 
he were really interested in her. She took note of 
the little table, with a half-emptied teacup, a bottle 
of medicine, and the book, Tennyson’s Idyls, upon 
it; and there was a glove, too — a woman’s glove, 
such as she herself might have worn. His manner 
was odd; she glanced at the glove, and smiled 
slightly; she understood it. Walter Dillon had 
made her the centre of his thoughts, and this ad- 
dress came from that fact. Her sight of the glove 
gave her confidence. She recognized by intuition 
what girls who have read many novels are always 
on the lookout for — what they find out by means of 
set rules of sentiment — that this fragile glove was 
more powerful than any steel gauntlet of past ages 
in the hands of a warrior. Dillon offered her the 
basket chair, and she sat upon the cushions, as 
gracefully as she could, for she was not used to 
steamer chairs. The sunlight tinged her hair with 


340 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


gold, and touched her long eyelashes with luminous 
reflections. Dillon stood near her, leaning against 
the arbor. 

Forgive me,” he said, I had no right to And 
fault with what you cannot help. You are rich, 
and you are back among the flatterers, the painted 
butterflies of life, and you must live your life among 
them.” 

Katharine found his irritation inexplicable no 
longer. It was pathetic, and, like all pathos, not 
altogether unpleasant. 

Why are you so angry against the rich ? ” she 
asked, demurely. I fancy they are seldom as 
proud or as sensitive as the poor.” 

^^It is not the rich that I hate, but the riches 
which have come between me and hope. I know 
it was foolish, Miss O^Conor, and I have given it 
up. My aunt did not know — ” 

Your aunt ? ” asked Katharine ; it was not 
beneath her to enjoy his embarassment when she 
felt that she could set it all right in a moment ? 

I fancy from some things I must have said — 
since she has repeated them to me — that she im- 
agined we were engaged, and had quarrelled.” He 
colored. Consequently, she sent for you, and left 
us in the parlor in that unusual way. If she has 
told you things I said, it has been out of the mis- 
taken goodness of her heart. I have realized fully 
the barrier between us, and I can only say that my 
hallucination was temporary.” 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


341 


Katharine was amused ; she could easily under- 
stand his morbid, imaginative state of mind — and 
what harm was there in making him somewhat un- 
comfortable, since she could make him happy at any 
moment. 

^^And what did you say?” she asked, looking 
innocently at him. ^^Did you scold about me?” 

Ah, then I feel that I keep my self-respect,” 
he said, relieved. I am a fool, I am sure — ” 

No, only a man,” said Katharine, coolly, some 
people think the terms are synonymous. I don’t,” 
she added, thoughtfully, at least, not in all cases. 
But why did you call me names while you were 
ill? What had I done?” 

did not call you names — ” he stopped short ; he 
did not understand whether she was in fun or 
earnest. 

Well,” she said, after a pause, ‘^you might, at 
least, give me back my glove. I can forgive your 
bad language, but theft is a different thing ; and I 
am poor enough to need all the gloves I can 
keep.” 

He hesitated; he took the little brown glove 
from the table, and gave it to her; his heart was 
like lead. She drew off her own black glove, while 
he watched her, fitted the brown one on her hand, 
and slowly buttoned it. Then she took it off 
again, and held her hand out to him ; he took it in 
both his. 

23 


342 


A MARRIAGE OF REA.SON. 


Now,” she said, looking frankly up into his 
face, “does it really make much difference, Walter, 
whether I am rich or poor?” 

He stood, bending a little and holding her hand. 
His face became radiant. 

“ I don’t care,” she went on. “ And I don’t know, 
for Mr. Percival says my uncle left a will. Surely, 
you will not reject me if I should happen to be 
rich?” 

There was a mischievous look in her eyes ; still, 
he could not speak ; it seemed a dream ; he found 
his voice. 

“ Thank God ! ” he said. “ Thank God. No- 
nothing makes any difference now.” He regained 
suddenly some of his old spirit. “ I don’t under- 
stand what you say about a will. If you are 
rich,” he added, boldly, almost fancying that the 
beautiful dream would vanish as he spoke, “ I 
shall make a marriage of reason, which you detest, 
I have heard.” 

The roses grew deeper in her cheeks. 

“ Reason, with Faith and Love, is the best basis 
for life, is it not? But reason, without these things, 
is worse than nothing.” 

The aunt entered the garden with the tea-things ; 
and shortly afterwards, Katharine went home, in 
the twilight which seemed enchanted, odorous with 
sweet perfumes, full of happy whispers. 


A MAREIAGE OF REASON. 


343 


Mrs. Sherwood produced the will, which she had 
not probated ; and, after a stormy scene with Mr. 
Percival, gave it into his keeping. When Katha- 
rine reached her room, she found that Mr. Percival 
had been there, and had left a note for her. She 
learned with no special elation — for she could not 
have been happier — that she had inherited one-third 
of Marcus Sherwood’s great fortune. 

In August, Walter Dillon and Katharine were 
married, much to the disgust of Herr Teufelfisch, 
who, before he sailed for Europe, had sent a touch- 
ing appeal to Mother Ursula, in the name of Art to 
forbid the banns. Mother Ursula favored him with 
her opinion of his selfishness, and sent Walter and 
Katharine a pearl rosary as their best consolation. 
Devine was the groomsman, of course, and little 
Maria Rodrigues bore roses before the bride. Mrs. 
Sherwood had gone to Paris, so the bride was mar- 
ried from the house of the Careys. None of the 
fashionable people, except the Percivals, were invited 
to the nuptial Mass or to the breakfast afterwards. 
Herr Teufelfisch so far forgot his anger as to send 
from Vienna an original wedding march, anno- 
tated by the great Leschetizky. Mr. Percival went 
through the forms perfectly, and was loud in 
praises of the beauty of the ceremony; but he 
still remains on the threshold of the Church. 

Little Maria Rodrigues was very happy. 

Now,” she said, dear Senorita, you will take 
me to see Broadway, and I shall be your little girl 
for a time, as I have missed you much.” 


344 


A MARRIAGE OF REASON. 


Mrs. Percival looks on Katharine as on one who 
had failed in life ; but when Wirt came home and 
entered on a career of the wildest dissipation, and 
the Lady Alicia described her marriage as detesta- 
ble slavery,” she was forced to conclude that Katha- 
rine O’Conor had been wise to follow a true principle 
in spite of all opposition. 

THE END. 


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